Big Dreamer
by Clef Longfellow
Summary: Dave lost his wife, his job, and likes his whiskey. He decides to return to Lima to pick up the pieces and runs into an old crush. A/U, future fic, Slash! Dark Comedy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Why hello there. I have returned and am trying my hand at a Kurtofsky fic. This time around, I'm aiming for a sort of dark comedy feel, though I wouldn't peg this story as a humor fic. So I'll do my best to keep all the main characters and maybe even the minor ones alive, lol. Unlike my last fic I won't be posting as quickly or as often because this one is coming from scratch (where as Crazy Hearts I had mostly completed when I started posting). With that said, I hope you enjoy reading this and please review. I'll really need them this time around to keep me writing since it hasn't been created yet. I'm open to suggestions, critiques, and general feedback.

**Warnings:** I rated it M for now, mostly for language content, substance abuse. I'm sure there will be some sexy time in the future so we'll say also for smut, slash, and overall sexual content as well. I'll put up warnings as the story moves along (but probably not every chapter so be prepared) just in case I missed something or if there's something particularly risky in that chap.

**Disclaimer:** Glee nor it's characters are mine, if only in my imagination.

* * *

"Dave... Dave?... Colin, wants you in his office."

The large hand reaches over, index finger pounding like a jack hammer at the phone before it successfully locates and punches the intercom button, "Yeah, Connie. I got it. Thanks," He grumbles.

What the fuck could that fucktard want?

Dave's head was pounding, his cheek pressed into the desk as he ponders if today was Tuesday or Thursday... Didn't they already have their weekly team meeting already?

Yep, he's pretty sure that happened because he recalls the stupid tie Colin was wearing while he explained the latest fluctuation in their company budgeting... Some God awful puke green colored thing with little smiley faces patterned across it... Dave could've sworn that when he stared hard enough, some had even winked at him.

Did he forget to turn in his expense report again? Maybe that was it...

Oh God, they didn't know about him tanking that last account because he'd disrespected the client by inviting him for some world class Mahi Mahi did they? ... He didn't know the asshat was some environmental nut with a passion for dolphins. Who the hell loves dolphins past the age of six anyway?

He peels the side of his face off the desk and pinches the bridge of his nose in hopes of quelling the headache raging in his temples. Remembering that he may have some aspirin in his desk drawer he yanks it open, fingers brushing over various empty shot bottles which had once housed some exquisite and rather expensive rum, a couple of framed photos, the glass splintered and jutting awkwardly, and... there it was. He pulled out the bottle, hearing a distinct rattling that meant there was something still left in there.

He twists the cap and dumps what's left of the bottle in his mouth. There was only about three left he concedes irritably; he'd honestly hoped for about a good eight. He gathers some spit in his mouth as if planning to hawk a humongous loogey, and washes the medicine down in what he privately deems the natural way. Which is actually code for the 'too lazy to get his lazy ass up and find any other source of liquid' way.

"Dave?" Connie's monotone voice rains over the phone intercom again. "Colin's waiting."

Dave sighs heavily, then stands up, straightening out his jacket before walking out the door. He walks past Connie who raises her eyebrows at him as he passes. He self consciously smoothes over his jacket again and knocks on the door at the end of the hall marked with the placard, 'Colin Fassbender, Executive Director of Operations.'

God the anecdotes and hilarious quips, puns, and just plain taunts he's had a hey day with over that fucking name. Especially on the days where the wormy little bastard had given him extra paperwork, or griped about use of the company phone on weekends, or just generally exhibited his douchy nature to intensely high proportions of douchery.

Dave huffs, then knocks.

"Come in," came the too pleasant baratone.

He pushes the door open and finds Colin pretending to look busy - one of his specialties, Dave concludes - as he shuffles through some papers, pulling his granny glasses from his pinched face and nodding for Dave to sit.

Dave gingerly plops down into the too cushy chair. He always hated how cushy and oddly plump the chairs were here.

Colin gives him a wry smile, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he considers Dave carefully.

"Dave, how long have you been here?"

"Eight years..."

"Eight years. Wow -"

"... Five months, two weeks, and four days... I think anyway, if it's Thursday."

Colin elicits an uncomfortable chuckle. "Okay... Wow. Down to the very second huh?"

"I am an accountant."

More strained laughter. "Well, eight years is a long time. And you've done really good work for us."

Dave nearly rolls his eyes at the nature of this prick's sense of entitlement. _'Good work for us?' _The douche had only been there for the past seven months. And he was seriously green, like just coming off his mother's teet, kind of green. Dave was pretty sure he had ball hair that was older than him.

"Which is why I wanted to talk to you."

Dave narrowed his eyes. Colin swallows audibly, shuffling a little nervously before pressing on.

"You've done such good work over the years Dave. Truly. But the truth is. Corporate is looking to down size and... well, you fit the bill buddy. I'm sorry."

"What?"

"You - uh - we're gonna have to let you go amigo."

Dave is shaking his head in disbelief. "Because I fit the bill? Hell does that mean?"

"No need to get hostile - "

"Hostile? I'm not getting fuckin' hostile. I'm just getting the facts. What's your reasoning Fassbender?"

"Dave... Look, do you really want me to say it? I mean - we both know what's been going on."

Crap. Maybe they did find out about dolphin nut. Colin was looking at him expectantly. His stupid face scrunched up with what was supposed to be concern Dave figured, but just made him look like a constipated squirrel.

"No. We don't."

Colin sighs as though this was honestly paining him to have to explain.

"Dave. Your work ethic, job performance - it's been slipping lately."

"How? I've gotten in all my reports. Met all my deadlines - "

"Come on Dave. I mean, have you even looked in a mirror lately? You look like shit, man."

"I wear a suit jacket like everybody else."

"Yeah. Over a t-shirt. A t-shirt that says 'Carpet Layer' with a suggestive picture on it. And for God sakes you have on sweat pants. Did you notice that this morning when you got dressed?"

"I get hot easily."

"You haven't shaved in what seems like months. And you actually smell. Like seriously... like a medicine cabinet full of alcohol. Which we all know is basically booze - "

"You keep booze in your medicine cabinet?"

"You come in late nearly everday - "

"I have issues with dropping my morning duece. I told you I could get a note from a doctor - "

"You barely pay attention during meetings or provide input - "

"Your ties. Are. Distracting. Okay? They fuckin' distract me. With their patterns, and eighties new wave crazy town shapes... It's a wonder anybody can focus when you're talking."

"The point is," Colin hastens on with an agitated air, "You haven't been presenting a good image. We all know you've had a tough time with your wife leaving and all - "

Dave is clenching his fists underneath the desk, his jaw tightening as he glares daggers at Colin.

Colin clears his throat, noting Dave's seething look, and attempts to back track a bit, sensing that he may have been lurking a bit too closely to the edge with that last remark.

"Um, not that it's anybody's business of course. But, we think this is for the best. This behavior... It's just been going on for too long, now. You really seem to - you could really use some help, Dave. Perhaps some counseling, an AA program. Whatever is going to help you, help yourself man."

Dave sits in silence, trying to digest everything. He was being fired... The cherry on top of an already wonderful year...

"I'll give you a complimentary file box to collect your belongings. And Don't worry about seeing HR, we'll uh - we'll send your last pay check in the mail."

"Gee. A free file box? You shouldn't have Colin."

The jack ass smiles, completely missing Dave's sarcasm. "Happy to do it Dave."

As Dave stands to leave, he halts. His anger: the rage that he used to carry around as a teenager like a shield, transforming and solidifying into the now familiar, calculating, targeted sense of menace that developed with age... A surge of focused vengeance enveloping him.

"You know, I think I may stop by HR after all."

"What for Dave? I just told you - "

"Not much. Just have a little chat with them about how our wonderful Operations manager - "

"Executive Director."

"Right. My apologies baby face. Operations _Executive - _has been spending company money on hookers. Oh, and not too mention his sleep over's with Dan's wife. I heard she was a real romp in the hay there, eh, amigo?"

Colin blanched. His pinched face paling, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"You have no proof - "

"Who needs it? You're sort of a running joke around the office. All I have to do is let HR in on the joke and see if they find it as funny as I do. I'm sure your Vice President Daddy will _love_ it. He's always loved my Japanese golfer jokes at the company holiday parties."

"Look - Okay, let's just - Whatever, fine. Whatever you want, just - Don't tell my Dad okay?"

Check mate.

Dave's smirk spreads, doing nothing to deter Colin from practically hyperventilating as he awaited Dave's conditions.

"I want a years salary. With benefits."

"What? No way, dude. That's fuckin' insane -"

"I wonder if Patty still works in HR -"

"Okay! Alright - Fuck! One year salary. With benefits. But you sign a contract agreeing that you never tell any staff about our arrangement. Ever. Okay?"

Dave stands up and puts out his hand. "Nice doing business with you _Ass_bender."

"Yeah. Whatever you prick. Just, get the fuck out! I'll meet you tomorrow with the contract and we'll discuss the logistics."

As Dave leaves his office, broad smile in place as he grinned past all of the blurring faces he knows are sketched with puzzlement, complimentary file box full of his office convections: books, his favorite desk lamp, the shattered photos of him and Lisa... He feels the powerful excitement of his' one up of the century' slowly dissipate... the ever present sadness returning. He thinks he still has a bottle of Jack in the back of his fridge he hadn't finished yet.

* * *

**A/N:** I got part of the plot idea for this chap from the movie **American Beauty (so I'm giving a disclaimer slash shout out for that)**, I always loved Kevin Spacey's ability to black mail the hell out of his boss. And for brownie points, I wonder if anyone spotted another little movie nod I placed in this chap (hint: from a movie, that was based on a book loved by the planet) So... shall I continue? What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I did mention slash and substance abuse before right?... Right, good. This chap contains a random act of slashy smuttiness and alcoholic indulgence so be forewarned. I owns nothing... except this story. Just a reminder too that this fic will be a bit slow coming as my schedule is pretty tight most days with work and again, this is all coming from scratch (as I shared before my last fic had already been mostly done before I started posting) so please be as patient as you can with me and I'll do my best to work on it and post as soon as I can. Also thank you to everyone who seems to be digging this story thus far and has let their feelings be known via thoughtful reviews. Please keep on reading and reviewing. Much obliged.

* * *

Dave was sitting on his couch, his hazel eyes drawn to the smashed wedding photo of him and Lisa he'd set up on the coffee table.

He takes a long swig from the bottle of Jack Daniels he'd purchased on his way back from meeting with _Ass_bender.

Squirrel face McBaby had indeed delivered: forged over the check spelling out the entirety of Dave's expected salary for the year (Dave of course triple checking both that and the contract to ensure its accuracy). He had never felt so smug in the moment when he'd signed on the dotted line. Really he should be planning a trip to the Camens, or Hawaii or something like that to celebrate such a long overdue victory.

But here he is... engaging in _his _version of celebration... Sitting on his couch in his underwear, sulking over a bottle while staring hopelessly at an old photo barely discernable through the cracked glass holding it in place.

The picture is the only one he'd retrieved from the file box, and now that he looked around, the only picture still left that Lisa hadn't packed up and taken, or that he hadn't destroyed in a fit of drunken rage. Now that he actually allowed himself to really stare long enough, he noted that the once well crafted, posh home, was practically empty; except for his couch, the coffee table, some other random pieces of cutlery... Oh, and his mattress, she'd left that. No pillows, or sheets though.

Lisa had taken pretty much everything. Most of it on a day where he'd been at work. He recalls the day he'd come home, a Wednesday he thinks, and found the house barren. A note scribbled in her ironically bubbly cursive, stating that she was done, and had taken what she felt was hers... He had owed her after all.

He didn't fight her. He didn't even try to stop the movers who had returned the following day to collect the rest of what she'd deemed her rightful items; he'd just watched them sullenly, with a bottle pressed to his lips.

Dave swallows the sob that had been lodged in his throat, and tentatively slides the photo down on its face.

Is that ringing? The phone maybe?... Lisa had taken the landline phone too so that couldn't be it... Ah, the doorbell, he deduces. He couldn't imagine who would be stopping by on a Friday afternoon. Solicitors... Or some other equal form of unimportant scum.

He wrenches the door open and receives a surprised gasp. He's not sure if it was with the ferocity in which he yanked open the door, or his unkempt and barely clothed appearance that cause the reaction... probably both.

"Oh. Hello, Mr. Dave."

"Javi."

Dave does nothing to hide the fact that he's only in his boxers and lazily draws more liquor into his mouth with an obnoxious gulping sound, the scruffiness of his facial hair suddenly itching in the direct sunlight.

"Um - Should I - Is this a bad time?"

"Everyday is a bad time Javi. So no, you're right on time."

"O-okay. Miss Lisa, um - she asked me to come a day early - to trim the bushes."

"Did she, now."

"Er - Yes. I already finished."

"Good."

Javi was looking at him nervously, standing on the porch as if he was about to be asked to walk the plank.

"Did you want something else?"

"She said that, you would - Um - that you would pay me for this week."

Dave elicits a hollow chuckle at Javi's admission. "Course she did. Look, just - come in, I'll find my wallet."

Javi was still standing there, shuffling his feet.

"It's fine. Honestly. Do you want something. A beer maybe?"

"Um - Sure, Mr. Dave." Javi answers with a hint of hesitancy as he follows Dave into the living area.

"I think I have a few left in my beer drawer in the fridge."

Funny. Lisa left him at the least the two things she knew he would put up a stink over: the fridge, and the couch. What a gem.

"Let me get you your money first."

"Thank you Mr. Dave."

"Just Dave Javi."

"Excuse me?"

"Just call me Dave, dude. I feel like your kindergarten teacher when you say it like that."

"Oh. Right. My apologies."

Dave puts his bottle down as he passes the coffee table, then retreats to his bedroom. The pants he had on earlier are bunched up on the floor. He quickly digs through them and extracts his wallet.

When he returns, Javi has their wedding photo propped up, staring at it intently. He fails to notice Dave's presence until the clinking of the cap being snapped off of his beer rouses his attention. Javi hastily puts the photo back as if it had burned him. Dave approaches him with a grimace, beer held out.

"I-I'm sorry Mr. Dave - I mean, Dave. I shouldn't have touched that." His accent always seemed to get heavier when he got nervous.

"It's fine." Dave assures him, as Javi gently takes the beer being offered and sips at it. Dave plucks up his bottle of Jack and chugs. He's gotten through about a quarter of the bottle but feels pretty functional at the moment. The joys of well practiced drinking.

"D-Dave? May I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Miss Lisa. She, um - she told me that this week - This would be my last week."

Dave remains silent, tipping the bottle back, waiting to see where the young Latino was going with this. Dave recalls Javi telling him once that he was attending Junior college; that the gardening was a side gig he agreed to help his Uncle with for petty cash while he went to school. He wonders if maybe Javi is in need of extra cash; that maybe the tuition had gone up and he was having to keep more clients in order to continue his education and was worried over losing Dave as a client for that reason...

"I just - I don't mean to pry, but - she mentioned, the house being put up for sale."

Well, there goes that whole theory out the fucking window. The kid actually sounded concerned, and Dave was sure it wasn't for himself.

Dave sighs, then sinks into the couch. Javi looks anxious - maybe thinking he'd hit a nerve.

"That would be correct, Javi."

Javi sips again, swallowing audibly. "But, you're still here..."

"That would also be correct, Javi."

"But... I don't - I don't understand. What are you going to do?"

"Well... currently I'm going to drink myself stupid in my underwear and wonder where the hell my life went. After that, who knows? Maybe masturbate. I've gotten pretty used to finding comfort in playing with my own dick since I was fourteen. It's tradition at this point."

And then it happens... the words coming up like vomit, regurgitated and spilled out into the space that was ripe with silent regret.

"We're getting a divorce, Javi. Miss Lisa... She left me. And took everything remotely worth anything. And you know what, I don't blame her. I _can't_ blame her. And I hate that. I fucking hate it to my core. I want to be able to point my finger and say, 'this is all your fucking fault'. But truthfully, it's my fault. I - I - couldn't love her how she deserved. Hell, I couldn't even bother to touch her half the time unless I was shit faced... B-because I -" He felt the sob hitch, fighting to escape, "cause my life is a fucking lie, Javi. _I'm_ a lie. And she knew it - s-she knew it all along."

He's crying now. The bottle loose in his grip, his other hand covering his face in shame, trying but failing miserably to hold himself together.

It's been more then a few minutes of him practically sobbing to himself when he vaguely registers the bottle being gently taken from his hand and placed on the coffee table, the sound of glass on glass cracking loudly in the silence.

His heart, full of ache, nearly implodes at the sudden feel of fingertips tracing across his bare shoulder, over his collar bone, caressing his jaw line. He squeezes his eyes shut, not sure if this is actually happening... wondering if he had in fact finished more of that fucking bottle then he'd realized.

Before he can finish the thought, he hears the sound of his waistband snapping, the cloth of his thin boxers shuffling, then a strong hand is gripping his member, wetting it with the tip of a soft, sure tongue.

He gasps, but doesn't open his eyes, letting the feeling of the physical contact wash over him; completely alien to his dulled senses.

Dave wants to push the head down, thrust into the wet mouth, but can't seem to make himself do it. He would with Lisa; find the liquid courage to ravage her thoroughly after topping off more then a few night caps.

Instead he reaches over, picks up the bottle and drinks. His tears tangling in his facial hair as he just lets it happen; his head lolled to the side, mind empty and detached.

* * *

He's on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the mattress, the floor covered with his old books he'd once kept lined in their shared book shelf (that shit of course gone now too, he chuckles darkly), surrounding him like a scattered monument to his past: his past intellectual endeavours, past interests that faded with time... his past happiness.

Javi had left. Probably hours before at this point. Worse yet, the little fucker hadn't even taken the money.

Dave didn't even want to think about what that had meant.

God... a fucking blow job from his Hispanic gardner, and a very hasty, very awkward exit with no explanation.

_"Be happy, Mr. Dave."_

That's what he'd said; the only thing he'd said. Then he retreated. No other words, no goodbye.

Mind you it was hard to take even the ones he'd actually said seriously when the dude had Dave's giz slowly crusting over his lips, but there you have it.

Dave had never pegged him for a fellow, er - _team_ member.

But then again, nobody ever pegged Dave for a pink player either. Preferably so.

That was the first time he'd cum from any intimate contact other then his own fist in months. He'd laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all if his heart didn't hurt so fucking much.

He swears there was a point to him being currently up to his knees in scattered book titles. Then he sees it... The thing he'd been searching for but denying as the premise of this impromptu mission because it was fucking ridiculous.

He sighs, his eyes lingering on the damn thing like it was disease ridden and waiting to snap at him. A well measured gulp of amber liquid later, and he's slipping his fingers over the pages, ignoring the contents as his mind recollects his destination through the haze of drunken detachment, exactly the page he needs... the one he'd secretly memorized over the years.

He stops. His eyes burning.

His face. A hint of a smile ghosting his thin lips. Shorn brown hair, slightly curled, highlighting a heavy set jaw.

_David Karofsky_

The words bold, sharp, undeniable. Everything that the picture above it wasn't.

God, had he ever been happy?

He thinks so. Some time before. Some way distant time before. But this picture, to any fool staring at it, would've displayed the iron clad figure of torment and confidence who had once stormed the halls of McKinley high school with a brazen fierceness that commanded respect.

But Dave knew. He knew the truth behind that stupid, naive, supposedly happy grin: that he was just plain scared. And a coward. And weak willed.

His eyes wandered over to the next page, past the other faces cropped into their square forevers, right to the figure who actually was all the things that Dave had supposedly been, but never was.

Fierce, confident, undeniable... Beautiful.

His lip quivers as he sadly traces over the pale face with thick fingertips like he'd done countless times before; each time secretly, and with a pit of shame stabbing at his insides of what the nearly routine gesture still implicated for him after high school was long over.

He grabbed up a sharpie marker that had toppled earlier from his penholding cup: a piece of Ohio State Hockey team memorabilia.

With an assured focus he physiologically didn't feel at the moment, he traced along the familiar face with the marker, then spelled out words that had lingered in his soul for eons... or light years, or whatever star trecky nerd measure of time sounded best.

When he finishes, he smiles at his handiwork, a gesture that surely doesn't reach his eyes which are red rimmed. He'd always wanted to do that, but never did for fear that Lisa would stumble upon it, divulge his secret, accuse him, hate him...

Too late for that now, he thinks bitterly.

The photo was of a boy... _The_ boy... perfectly coifed brown hair, pouty lips forming a coy smile, accented by the most pure, blue eyes he'd ever seen to this day. His alabastor skin smooth and unblemished.

Seeing this face for the first time wandering down the halls of McKinley High School was when he knew his world was never going to be the same.

And now the face was no longer only caged in a perfect square crop, but coralled inside a black lined heart, a bit crooked, but framing it just right despite it's off-centeredness. Next to the heart, the newly printed words:

**_I loved you once. It never left._**

The captioned words, _Kurt Hummel_, are slightly illegible now because of the heart outlining the picture and cutting into them.

Dave then throws the McKinley yearbook across the room and re-commences his plan to forget the past decade of his life, or at least get hammered enough to forget that fucking face for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hey readers and reviewers. Greetings and happy to see you're still with me. Warnings in this chap for violence and substance abuse. Otherwise, enjoy and please keep the reviews coming. And as always I'm open to questions, general feedback and thoughts. I'm making time when I can to update. I know it's a bit slow going but just bare with me. I _will_ finish the story so no worries about me up and abandoning it and leaving you hanging.

* * *

_Beep... Beep... Beep..._

The middle aged checker, a woman with a bad dye job and lips adorning an even more poorly executed paint job - the pepto bismol colored pink overlapping the puckered edges - twists her wide lips awkwardly, an attempt to hide her obvious discomfort with Dave's grocery items as she scans them hastily. He hadn't missed her disgruntled look when she had overtly checked over his appearance, taking in his scruffy beard and stained hooded sweat shirt with a quirked brow.

Dave tilts his head, eyes narrowing.

"Problem?"

She shrugs while keeping her beady eyes glued to the bottle of Captain Morgan she's currently running over the scanner, the bottle clinking against the seven others she's already stacked to the side.

"No. Not _mine_, anyhow," She mumbles just loud enough to reach his ears.

Dave looks over her name badge... _Marge_. She looked like a damn Marge. That or a Helga. He feels it... That same feeling he got before he confronted Assbender and made his demands; the slowly developing desire to reign fire and be an absolute nuisance.

"Marge. May I call you Marge?"

Another shrug. "Whatever tickles your pickle."

His smile stretches, a sign of his growing irritation disguised as amusement.

"Tickles my pickle. Funny. Well, for one, apparently my latino gardner who's half my age likes to tickle pickles. Particularly mine. With his mouth. Which was way awesome by the way. But I think that might've had to do with the fact that I can't remember the last tongue tickle I got from someone. Most notably my wife. And something else that shivers my timber: women named Marge looking decidedly uncomfortable and judgemental over purchases that are none of her fucking business. That just - Boy - tickles me pink."

Marge looks aghast, her mouth opened, trying to find words.

"So, Marge, I'll also take four of those chap sticks - you never know when some mouth tickling is gonna be in order for the evening - and that pack of condoms. I would say ribbed for _her _pleasure but I don't want to be a liar."

Shock mingled with anger. A harrassed expression etched on the square face; her green eyes staring at Dave with utter disgust, and an undeniable sense of awe.

"Oh and can I get someone to bag those for me? I try to avoid heavy lifting. Unless there's a monster sized _pickle_ involved. I could curl those all day," He leans in to whisper.

She's still standing there, looking completely affronted to the point of numbness. Dave spots a bagger, a skinny, sandy haired kid marching past the isle. He candidly notes the name tag pinned to his apron. He reaches over and grasps the phone connected to the PA.

"Jimmy!" His deep voice booming out over the PA system. "Your services are needed on - " Dave looks up to catch the number highlighted over the register - "Isle three. We got condoms. Booze. And chapstick. All the essentials for a magically fun filled night that requires your undying bagging devotion. Thank you. That is all."

He releases the phone and glances at the green numbers lighting up the register screen. As Jimmy - looking quite pale quickly bags his items - Dave smiles to himself, carefully pulls out his wallet, then slaps down a hundred dollar bill accompanied shortly by a fifty.

"Keep the change _Margorie_."

He gathers the bags, lifting each hand up for good measure to test the weight distribution and overall security of the bags. Seemed that Jimmy had indeed double bagged everything.

"Nice job Jimmy. You've got a future ahead of you. Just don't get married. Ever. And you'll be wonderfully, deliriously happy. Get laid, man. Just - lay a lot of people. Fuck aimlessly, but true." And with that, Dave exits the store, a sly, very satisfied grin spread clearly over his face.

He can't figure out what the hell made him say all of that; what the fuck could've possessed him to make such openly sexual comments - very openly _gay_ sexual comments at that, with no hesitation mind you - to a complete fucking stranger?

At the moment, he doesn't truly care. Not really. Just happy to have rubbed sweet Marge's nose in her own presumptuous, condescending attitude. He thinks that was probably it - the reason behind the act. Her face was priceless and so very worth every insult slipping past his normally constrained lips. Maybe there was something to this whole black mailing a major corporation thing... Something it did for his confidence, or rather what it did for his sense of not giving a fuck.

He laughs to himself. He's_ never _said shit like that before. Not out loud. And definitely never insinuating himself. 'Curling a monster pickle'? Seriously... what the fuck, Karofsky?

Apparently as of late, he was on a verbal war path where not even strange, hideously made up women were safe.

When he makes it to his car - his neglected, ramshackle of a Toyota Tercel - he immediately notices the shattered glass piled near the car door at his feet.

"Aw fuck! Seriously? Who breaks into a fucking _Tercel_? C'mon, man!"

He angrily sets down his bags and begins assessing the damage. He determines that his radio is still in place, and nothing else seems to have been tampered with. Suddenly, his back explodes with an intense pain causing him to fall forward, his hands landing hard on the glass shards carpeting the cement.

Two guys, hoodies pulled tightly over their heads - Dave easily discerning that they were likely teens - worked quickly to snatch up his grocery bags.

Another blow rains over his shoulder - a third asshole swinging a bat down hard.

"Thanks for the liquor fag!"

He tried to grab one by the ankles, but they were nimble, efficient little fuckers; the scene happening in a blur lacking any sort of coherency. Flashes of movement, a fallen bag leaking a foot away from him, and pain coursing through his back and shoulder... echoes of their jeering laughter saturating his mind like the pain now streaming through his body.

Eventually he reaches over, his back pressed up against his beloved heap of a vehicle, and shakes open the leaking brown bag. His flavored Barcardi is basically empty, the top portion cracked to the point of no return, but his bottle of Captain Morgan is relatively undamaged. He sighs, twists off the cap and takes a long swig, the blood on his hand smearing over the bottle neck.

Any sense of accomplishment had been sucked out of him like an unrelenting vacuum wrenching up the little specks of his ego that were left over.

Sure the physical pain was biting, but that word... _'fag'_... those little shits had no idea how much weight, and unadulturated turmoil that fucking word carried for him. Suddenly his little quips in that grocery store are so insignificant and plain stupid, he can't bare it... He could just curl up and stay asleep on the broken glass and blood.

Yep. He was still a coward.

A self depracating, soon to be officially divorced, surely in so much denial he's actually building an emerald city inside his closet, fucking coward.

* * *

**_"May, 19th..."_**

**_"Hey, David. It's your Dad. Just um - wanted to check in. Not sure if you got my other messages but I - I just, er- Just call me when you get in. Bye."_**

Dave forwards to the next message with a jab of his finger.

"**_May 21st..."_**

**_"David. It's your Father. It's been a few days. I'm feeling a bit concerned son. Call me."_**

Another push, and the next message begins.

**_"May 22nd..."_**

**_"David Michael Karofsky. If you don't call me back in a sufficient amount of time after this message I'm gonna put in a call to the sheriff."_**

A swift clicking sound signalling his Father's abrupt hang up.

The twenty-second... Today... he remembers seeing his calendar pinned against the fridge. That message must've been left today at some point. How many days had it been anyhow? Damn... he was seriously losing track of time, and on some days, his mind seemed to follow suit. He thinks maybe it's been several weeks since his Tercel had been mutilated; the broken window covered up by a thick trash bag secured in place by packing tape.

He knows he needs to call back. Grudgingly, he centers himself to go through his call log and dial the number. He notices one last message and slowly pushes the button, waiting with bated breath, wondering if law enforcement was in fact on their way to his home - well, soon to _not_ be home - as he sat there stewing in his now familiar inebreation.

**_"May 22nd..."_**

**_"Hey. So I think, you know, maybe you're just tired or something. That's fine. I just - I know about Lisa son. I know that you guys are - well, anyway... Danny asked about you. You should call back."_**

Just like his Father to have a surge of protective instinct overwhelm him, followed rapidly by a logical burst of denial that trumps any sense of worry. Dave shook his head. He had almost felt compelled by the man for a moment, almost felt the guilt bubbling and forcing him into obedience because his Dad was actually showing some emotion. The bitterness was permeating his being, a weirdly unequivocal feeling.

But then he'd said the magic words that had successfully revamped the dissipating guilt.

**_'Danny asked about you.'_**

How the hell could he deny that? Hell, maybe the analytical route was indeed the better route to go judging by the way he was swallowing the lump in his throat and gazing intently at his cell phone.

Two minutes of drunken fumbling later, he located the number, and pushed the call button.

"H-Hello?" A familiar, sleepy drawl greeted.

"D-Dad?"

"Son? Hey... You okay?"

"I um - I dunno."

...

"Are you by yourself?"

...

"David?"

"Yeah."

"At home?"

"Yes, sir."

He hears the sigh of relief breathed out on the other end and forces himself to swallow that damn lump. He can feel the undertones of each exclamation, the unsaid words carefully concealed, but that years of knowing his Father allows him to hear anyway.

"I'm glad you called back."

_"I'm glad you aren't dead."_

"Y-yeah. Me too."

...

"Do you - Do you wanna - are you - what can I do?"

The confusion, the underlying hurt in his voice was too much. Dave's eyes were leaking now, lips quivering with the effort to hold back a sob. God there are things he wants to disclose too, to be honest about, but just can't.

"I just - I think - Maybe I oughta come home. Ya know... to see Danny."

_"To keep from myself from doing anything really stupid. I can't do this alone anymore."_

...

"Right. Of course. Tonight?"

...

"Um, nah. I'm a little - er - tired. Think I better sleep it off."

_"I'm too drunk off my ass and I can't drive."_

"Alright then. You're um - room is still made up. You can just bunk in there when you get here."

"Sounds good. S-see ya tomorrow."

"Night son."

When they hang up, he's not sure if he's actually angry with his Father for his carefully controlled aloofness, or grateful for it. Somedays he feels like he needs his Father to just shake him and acknowledge that he's a fuck up instead of pretending that he doesn't see it. But perhaps things were better left unsaid. Either way, Dave still feels empty again as he curls by the edge of the couch and stares around the darkened room without purpose.

He had money. He was free of his job. He could do whatever he wanted really...

But here he was, crying like a pathetic sack of sad, looking to run home to his Daddy's with his tail tucked. It was official that he remained shit faced on a regular, he was wifeless, nearly homeless if someone put up an offer soon, and he had no inclination on what to do with himself, which led to his continuous escapades with the bottle.

Yeah... Home... Back to good ole Lima, Ohio. It was sort of like rewinding back to the beginning. And he really hated the idea of rewatching the same movie twice.


	4. Chapter 4

He shouldn't be surprised that all of his worldly possessions could be stuffed in the back seat of his Tercel; the contents spread between a single large box, and a duffle bag.

The feeling wasn't exactly surprise, maybe more like a sort of sad acceptance. He had pretty much come to terms that that part of his life, the being measured by his personal belongings part, had went out the door along with Lisa. Besides, he had never been one for material things. Couch and Fridge... then he was fine.

Now he didn't even have that anymore. He'd set it all outside on his front lawn, everything he couldn't cram into his crappy but reliable car and left it up to the wind.

When he entered the house and dropped the box on the floor, his Father however couldn't mask the surprise that flashed across his face. He tried, a quick grin attempting to dispel that lapse of wonder at the box sitting on his living room floor, but Dave hadn't missed it.

Paul Karofsky moved forward, halted, a sense of hesitation humming through his body, then he reached his large hand out.

Dave smiled weakly, clasping his Dad's hand and shaking it firmly.

"Hey Pop."

"Son," the equally tall man greeted. "Do you have anything else in the car?"

"Oh. Yeah. A duffle bag. It's in the back seat."

"I'll go get it. Make yourself at home. You can put your um - box - up in your room. I just finished putting some new sheets and things down on the bed."

"Cool. Thanks."

His Dad nodded and began to step forward in order to go retrieve Dave's bag.

"Dad?"

Paul stopped, and turned back toward Dave.

"Thanks."

Paul cleared his throat, nodding again before coughing out, "You're welcome."

"Er - Where's - "

"Danny? Upstairs."

Dave smiled at that and stooped to pick up his box, his Father's large frame already gone out the door. Dave marched upstairs, his eyes catching the same photos that had always been present along the staircase wall.

He felt his eyes get wet as he spotted the one that he used to steal and look at for hours alone: a family photo of himself - no more then a tender six at the time - his Dad, and his Mom...

He thinks he may see it... That happiness that always seemed to be missing in all of the photos taken after his eleventh birthday.

She was beautiful. A petite woman with full blonde hair, striking hazel eyes and a lust for life. She was holding a younger Dave to her in the picture, both of them laughing wildly at the camera, Paul on his other side smiling with a hefty sense of pride at his little family...

Dave shook his head, returning himself to the present, then continued on his mission.

He hears it as he makes his way over to the closed door...

_God bless Mother nature_

_She's a single woman too_

_She took from the heavens_

_And she did what she had to do_

Oh God... Oh, sweet seven pound Baby Jesus... No fucking way...

_She taught every angel to rearrange the sky_

_So that each and every woman can find her perfect guy_

That is just too fucking funny...

_It's raining men! Hallelujah!-_

_It's raining men! Amen!_

_It's raining men! Hallelujah!-_

_It's raining men! Ameeeen!_

Dave thinks if he stays there any longer listening at the door, he's either going to dissolve into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that'll last past dinner time, or worse... start belting out the tune with vigor. He took that moment to push open the door.

"Hey," he greets.

Danny shoots off the bed, slamming the lap top shut, immediately silencing the classic eighties tune from emanating out into the space.

"Whatcha doin?" Dave tries, surely failing at hiding the amusement likely fixed on his face.

Danny pushes her thick glasses up her nose, her round face easily displaying the rising color of her cheeks.

"Oh. Um - Nothing - Just watching something."

"I see. Or rather I heard. Can I sit?"

She nods at a spot on the edge of the bed, shifting to make herself comfortable as he sinks into the mattress; his hazel eyes roaming around the room with curiousity.

Long gone were the pink colors and campy posters of overly stylized cartoon characters that just seemed to strain his senses beyond comprehension and give him a headache. The room had been painted a favorable dark gray color. Strung along the walls are various posters of musical artists, cluttering the space in a similar way that the cartoon ones had, but in a much less overstimulating, head-achey sort of way. Dave chuckles at the poster of Jim Morrison, another infamous Pink Floyd image, a random picture of Michael Jackson during his Thriller days...

For a moment Dave goes back to that championship football game where they had to do that damn mash up and dance in front of the entire school with that fucking Glee club. Dancing around the field as made up zombies to none other then Thriller. Dave still would never admit it to this day, but it had been so invigorating, exciting, and well - fun. Hummel had even been watching from the audience...

He shook his head and gazed over at Danny, her face screwed up in what looked to be lingering embarrassment.

"So... Raining Men, huh?" He finally asks.

"I overheard my Teacher talking about it. I think she used the word 'beefcakes' or something."

Dave chuckles again. "So you were interested in checking out 'beefcakes'?"

The red color staining Danny's cheeks intensified.

"Just - Doing some research. That's all."

"Hm. Okay."

Danny looks to be sinking into the bed, her eyes darting anywhere but at Dave. He decides to take pity on her.

"Like the room kid. Didn't peg you for a Doors fan."

"So are you staying?"

Dave is caught off guard by the direct question.

"I - I'm not sure."

"I saw you walking up. You had a box with you."

"Maybe I was just bringing something for Dad."

"Yeah and maybe I'm not fat."

"You aren't fat, Danny -"

"Oh I'm sorry. Big boned. Pleasantly plump, or whatever the hell it is Grandma says after she pinches my cheeks."

Dave shakes his head and puts his arm around her shoulders.

"That's just something old people do. Grandma still tells me to grow a butt and pinches my cheeks."

"Ew."

"Not those cheeks smarty. That's just - where is your mind? Ew, is an understatement. And you shouldn't cuss."

"Dad does."

"He's old."

"So do you."

"I'm old too."

"So are you gonna start pinching my cheeks like Grandma?"

Dave laughs. This kid always made him smile genuinely. He missed that feeling.

"I might if you keep making retarded comments about being fat."

"You shouldn't say retarded," she counters.

"You're right. Completely, and utterly untrue, moronic, idiotic, and less then intellectual statements about being fat. Deal."

"I guess."

"Deal, or I'm gonna start pinching."

Danny erupts into giggles as she playfully bats his hands away. "Okay, okay. Deal."

"Good."

Dave stands and moves toward the door.

"Hey."

He stops, his hand loosely clutching the door handle in his grip.

"I'm happy you're here Davey."

"Me too kiddo," and he quietly shuts the door behind him.

Yeah... He'd really missed his sister. Even at eleven, she was an amazingly old soul that seemed to somehow spark a long forgotten warmth in him.

* * *

This is the first actual meal he'd had in weeks. It was usually liquid lunches and fast food outings. He poured a large helping of parmesan over the watery tomato sauce and immediately dug in.

"See. David likes it Danny."

She looks up, her dark eyebrow slowly rising up toward her hairline.

"Yeah. But he doesn't have it almost everyday."

"What're you talking about? We don't have spaghetti that much."

"We had it Tuesday."

"Well I was running late that day-"

"And Wednesday-"

"I figured it'd be easier if we had leftovers-"

"Friday-"

"I was called in the office. You know I didn't have time to-"

She's eyeing him, a daring gleam behind her bespectacled glare.

"So we've had it a bit _lately_. I'll give you that."

"Usually it's spaghetti. Or fishsticks-"

"Which you love!-"

"Or we go out to eat."

Dave's eyes volley between the two, slurping up his too wet spaghetti noodles. True the banter was entertaining, but he could feel an air of disappointment billowing between them with every remark that felt decidedly uncomfortable.

"So how was school kid?" Dave asks in hopes of receding the building tension.

"Fine." Danny answers easily. "What's a blow job?"

Paul spits out the water he'd been drinking, choking and sputtering as Dave rushes over to slap his back. Finally he manages to regain his composure, red faced and still eliciting small coughs.

"I - Uh - I need - Kitchen - Something to drink -" He grinds out between coughs and makes his way to the kitchen. Dave watches him retreat before returning his curious hazel orbs to the figure at the end of the table.

"Where did you hear that?"

"I - At school. This kid Elmer Samuels said it during math class to this other boy named Mike Porter."

Dave gives her a wry smile. "Do you - Do you know what that is?"

She shakes her head and Dave is convinced that she is blissfully unaware. Thank heavens for small miracles. Fucking public school and their sess pool of hormonal, soon to be junky, jail bird knit wits.

"It's um - It's -" God he was not ready for this conversation.

"It has to do with - physical stuff. Stuff you're too young for anyway so you have no business knowing."

"Oh." She pauses. "I did something wrong, right?"

Dave softens at her defeated air. "No. God no, Danny. You didn't do anything wrong. Dad just, he needed something from the kitchen. I'll check on him okay. Just - finish your food. And sweet Merlin, stay away from that kid and whatever crap he's telling you. I mean the fact his name is _Elmer _is enough reason alone to steer clear."

Danny smiles as Dave ruffles her dark hair and proceeds into the kitchen. He finds his Dad hunched over the sink, a glass of untouched water on the counter.

"You alright?"

"Where does she get this stuff? She's eleven years old."

"Dad. She's in sixth grade. She's gonna turn twelve soon and then it'll be seventh grade. She's growing up man."

Paul exhales and runs his hand through his hair, a habit Dave had somehow subconsciously picked up himself over the years.

"I know - I just - I wish she had a woman around - you know? Someone to really talk to about that kind of stuff."

Dave grimaces. It had been two years since Danny's Mom had left. His Dad was still dealing, or rather pretending that it never happened so he wouldn't have to deal. She'd run off with some co-worker of hers and never looked back. No Notes. No apologies. And without Danny.

"I know Pop. I know. But you're doing good. You're doing the best you can -"

"Am I?"

Dave felt his heart slow its pace.

"Danny seems to hate everything. She doesn't have any friends and I'm pretty sure she can't stand me most days. And you..."

Paul trails off.

"Me what?" Dave pushes.

"Nothing."

"No, don't stop on account of me. Say it."

"Nothing David. Alright. Let's just - let's drop it okay?"

"No. You were gonna say something. Stop beating around the bush and just say it -"

"You're here, David. Okay. The fact that you're here, in this house when you're supposed to be married, with a wife, in your own house, building up a fat pension for your future kids. The fact that you look... God... You look like I feel inside, son."

Dave feels the tears stinging his eyes, waiting to fall. He blinks them away, his disposition suddenly stony.

"Drink some water. You'll feel better," he states monotonously, and exits the kitchen. The words, once again, the words that weren't said... That Dave was a failure, a fucking alcholic mess, were left inside Paul's mind, perfectly safe, and as perfectly unsaid as always.

Danny was sitting at the table, her eyes boring into her spaghetti that had barely been touched since Dave's departure.

"Hey. How bout some ice cream? My treat."

"I'm not five Dave."

Dave swallows back the sting he'd felt at the words.

"No. You're not. But you are a fan of the birthday cake flavor mixed with a bit of black cherry, correct? Unless you happened to outgrow that of course."

She beamed at him, then nodded. "Nah. I'm still a fan."

"Cool. You can drive."

"What?"

"Kidding. But shot gun's all yours."

"And I have complete radio control?"

"Kid, judging by the musical genius represented in your posters upstairs, I'd be a fool to refuse you."

She laughs again as he snags his keys off the hook, and they leave everything shameful about that recent scene behind them.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the beautiful touching love song known as 'Raining Men' by the Weather girls. I also don't own any musical artists that were mentioned this chap or may be referred to in the future of this fic. I'm pretty sure I still won't own them then either. Reviews... please keep em' coming. They greatly inspire me.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Encounters, and Singing, and Bears, oh my! This chap is gonna be a marathon of a chap so prepare yourself. Originally I was going to break it up but if felt more fluid to keep it together. So a buddy of mine gave me some solid advice (you know who you are - thank you by the way) to make sure to inform the readers of Dave and Kurt's history sooner then later in order for you guys to be clearer on Dave's current sense of self and sexuality. Basically to sum it up, disregard Dave and Kurt's history together in Glee, Season 3, as it doesn't apply in this story; the only exception being their running into each other at Scandals in the 'First Time' episode. **(Spoiler Alert) for season 3: **So disregard the gorilla suited secret admiring, and the cough syrupy attempts at self harm. Glee Season 2 history still stands though.

**Warnings:** Drunken-ness, cursing, and gross beards.

**Disclaimer:** I owns nada, including the song by the _Roxettes, Listen to Your Heart._

* * *

Dave had been home in Lima just over a month.

He'd fallen into a sort of routine. Well, as much of a routine as someone sitting around with no job could muster.

He would take Danny to and from school, and made time to fix things around the house - things that his Dad had complained of never having the time himself to get to - and even took it upon himself to make dinner here and there just to avoid having spaghetti or anything remotely related to it every other night. He wasn't a master chef by any means but he enjoyed putting together simple meals like tacos, or grilled burgers... Easy, but most importantly _not fucking spaghetti_.

His Dad didn't ask questions, though Dave could see in his eyes that he was yearning to comment about their current living situation; to ask about why Dave seemed to have so much vacation time on his hands to be able to stay as long as he had thus far.

Dave hadn't told him about losing his job. Not yet anyway. It was bad enough that his Father was aware of his split with Lisa. He was sure he wasn't ready to know that his son had failed professionally too... Or that he'd black mailed the shit out of the company he'd been with for nearly a decade. Paul Karofsky may be a lot of things, but he was most notably a blue blooded American man tied deeply to his ethics and morals. He believed in hard work, self sacrifice, and loyalty above all else.

Yeah... He definitely wasn't ready for that conversation quite yet.

He was just coming from the bank where he'd opened up a new account strictly to service his black mail fund, (he had reveled in the shocked expression of the teller at the amount of money he'd placed in the account, probably expecting some juggernaut in a suit and tie), when he came across his reflection in the passing windows.

He stopped, tilting his head slightly in order to really take himself in.

It was funny. It's not as if he hadn't had access to mirrors. It was more like, he'd simply avoided them without even realizing he had. He supposes that he just hadn't cared enough to look really.

He was wearing his favorite pair of sweats, light gray and baggy with a few splotches of dried paint on the knees. An ill fitting t-shirt, wrinkled and stretched with his old college alma mater adorning the front. A royal blue hoodie thrown over it that had been machine washed over the years so much, that it was chalky and completely washed out. His build had always been a bit husky, but healthy, what one might categorize as a 'good thick.' His now non-existant gym attendance however was starting to show. His hair was overgrown, his natural curls bunching up at the top. His face was drawn, his beard full and tangled; his hazel eyes tired and weary looking.

If he didn't know any better, he could easily mistake himself for a drunk. A homeless one. Plain and simple.

He released a heavy sigh, his square shoulders rising up and then down in time with the gesture. This is the person that they had all been seeing... This is the big brother that Danny had become accustomed to...

A slovenly, drunken, coward.

He slammed his car door and sped off thinking irritably of which brand of alcohol he should indulge in when he got back home.

* * *

Hours later, he was sitting in his car staring over at the dilapidated building; the bright neon sign of it's garish exterior glowing out into the night like a big, gay, beacon.

It read one word... **_Scandals. _**

God, he hadn't been there in years. And even then, he'd only gone a few times back in high school. Right after he'd transferred from McKinley to Carmel High. Right around the time he thought he might actually be able to venture from the closet. It didn't happen of course. In the end, he'd remained firmly stationary, watching his world recede into a neutral pattern of 'normalcy', well outside of the neon swirls of color.

He's gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning white. What the hell had been the point of this again?

As if in answer, his mind drifts back to a certain cheeky little girl who he'd had a recent encounter with not too long before...

_Dave was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, jutting out his chin while rubbing his hand over his beard, examining himself closely._

_"You should go out, you know."_

_He looks past his own reflection, a gentle smile splitting through the massive beard at the sight of a familiar figure staring up at him through thick framed glasses._

_"Why do you say that?"_

_"Cause you're like thirty-two years old and you should like, hang with other thirty-two year olds or something."_

_"I dunno kid. I don't know if I'm into the whole 'meeting people' thing. Plus adults are over-rated."_

_"Still... You should meet someone though."_

_"And what about Lisa? Did you forget about her already?"_

_"Well, no. But..."_

_"But?" Dave prompted._

_"But - I dunno. She was just - kinda mean."_

_"S'that so?"_

_"Grandma Mary even called her a 'bull dozing bitch' once during our Sunday family dinner after she had like four glasses of that chardonnay stuff."_

_"No wonder you're such a sailor. I'll have to have a little chat with your Grandma Mary about saying crap like that in front of you."_

_"Whatever. So are you going out or what?"_

_Dave clutches the sides of the sink, his eyes still fixed on his sister in the mirror as he contemplated the notion to himself._

_"Fine. I'll go out. But I reserve the right to make you go out sometime in the future. And I mean with a friend your own age too. Deal?"_

_Danny initially looked stricken by the stipulations of the agreement. But after a brief moment of silence, nodded and shook Dave's much larger hand to signify her conceit._

_"Deal."_

_"Cool. Guess I better shower and what not."_

_"You should shave."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Definitely. Or at least trim it down some. Maybe like how Dad has it."_

_"You want me to parade around like a mini Paul Karofsky?"_

_"You sort of look like a young Santa Clause in training. Or like you should be on that show 'Lost.'_

_"Mini-Paul it is then."_

_"Oh, and you should wear one of those button up shirts you have. I like that navy blue colored one."_

_"How'd you know about that?"_

_She shrugged, and stated with an easy air of non-chalance, "I went through your duffle bag earlier."_

_"Okaaay - Why?"_

_"I'm a kid. I get bored."_

_Dave shakes his head in amusement and nudges her out the door._

_"Out. I'm gonna shower. And grab that blue one for me - without looking at anything else - and leave it on the bed."_

_Danny mock saluted him and then exited the bathroom; Dave laughing to himself as his gaze became fixated on his own reflection again, the smile slowly fading away._

He had borrowed his Dad's shaving kit, complete with an electric hair clipper which he used to run over his locks, sheering them down to a more manageable style. He normally kept his hair short so it wasn't a problem to trim it down to what he was used to. And he'd decided against the full on 'Mini-Paul' look which encompassed a square shaped goatee, instead carefully cutting down his wild, twiney, facial hair into a more well manicured and generally neat beard.

There were a few straight bars closer to town. He had even drove up to them and sat in his car, similar to what he was doing now, watching, hoping to find the will to exit his car and just go in. In the end, his frustration with his life, the familiar urge to be reckless overcame his good sense to simply 'blend in,' and he ended up here, at the place that had once symbolized the developing courage to maybe gradually tip-toe from his closet.

He can't remember why he'd stopped coming... Or, maybe he can. It was just easier to leave it at being unprepared, and to project the blame on his conflicting feelings. So that's what he did, and left it alone.

He had been eighteen years old then...

Sadly things hadn't changed much for him since. He was still just some closeted jack-off with a retractable spine.

He thought of Lisa. He thought of his sister. He even thought of _him_, the beautiful boy that had once enraptured him to the point of what felt like near insanity.

He huffs, takes a drawn sip from his leather bound flask, and flees his car like a man on a mission, which essentially, he sort of was.

He feels like he may have flashed back in time. It was almost exactly the same. The same run-down juke-box melded in the corner, the same lackluster atmosphere with the same drag queens, and cheaply varnished bar. The only noticeable difference he observed as he took a seat on a bar stool, was the well crafted stage and the large monitor screen overhead, a sure-sign of bad karaoke to come.

"Hey there cutie. What can I get you?"

"Bourbon. Make it a double."

"Ooh. I like a man who takes em' straight. Same as me," the willowy bartender winked as he nodded at Dave's wedding band.

Dave had forgotten to take it off. Subconsciously though, he might've wanted to keep it on to serve as a potential shield from any prying, aggressive little suitors; one last barrier to keep himself locked away and in his 'I'm just a visitor' state of mind.

He clears his throat and responds, "I'm divorced actually."

The blond man giggles as he finishes pouring Dave's drink. "Oh honey. You guys are always getting a 'divorce' when you happen to find your way in here." He leans over the bar, whispering into Dave's ear in a seductive fashion, "But nothing quite screams divorce like a man wrapping his mouth around your cock, am I right?"

Dave distracts himself by gulping down his drink, the bartender arching back with a tinkling laugh, clearly amused by the result of his comment.

"I'm just giving you a hard time. Judging by the look on your face, I think perhaps _literally_. How about a round of me - I mean, on me... As penance."

"Sure."

"Another double?"

"I think it's almost necessary at this point."

The bartender laughs again as he pours.

"Ian."

"What?"

"Ian. That's my name. What do they call you Yogi?"

"In a past life it was Dave."

"Ooh, large and witty. Better be careful. They'll definitely be a few queens in here who'll be after you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Suddenly the lights dim, the general chatter and din of the crowd recedes as a single light cascades over the stage. A large drag queen with a red bee-hive wig, overly dramatic eye make-up including smoky eye lids, and lengthy false lashes, red stained lips that formed a weird, un-natural pouty shape, obnoxious silver heels and a tight fitting gown bounces up onto the stage with a microphone in hand.

"Welcome, welcome Ladies and Gents, to Scandals infamous karaoke night."

Enthusiastic clapping and wolf whistles sound off at the announcement.

"I am Minnie Monumentous, and I will be your host tonight." Again, more shouts and whistling.

"First up, our regular little Porcelain Prince. Come on up sweetie."

Dave is quietly sipping from his drink when a man steps on the stage, his brunette hair tinged with auburn highlights, perfectly coifed, a tight v-neck t-shirt covered by a charcoal vest and skinny jeans hugging his built legs. Dave swallows at the sight. This was quite a specimen, nice ass, pale skin, and if he squinted he could just make out the piercing blue eyes...

_Holy. Fucking. Shit._ No - It just - No. It can't be...

"Hey guys. I figured I'd kick us off tonight. This one's a classic. In my mind anyway."

Dave downs the rest of his drink and slams it on the bar. He's sure his jaw is on the floor at this point. That voice, those eyes... It was _him_.

The music cues up, and then that voice is gracing the ears of the carefully listening audience.

_I know there's something in the wake of your smile_

_I get a notion in the look in your eyes, yeah_

_You've built a love, but that love falls apart_

_Your little piece of heaven turns to dark_

Dave can't make his mouth work. So he wordlessly gestures for another drink, smacking the bar and then holding up his pointer finger to signal how much he wanted.

**_{Listen to you heart, when he's calling for you_**

**_Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do_**

**_I don't know where you're going and I don't know why_**

**_But listen to your heart_**

**_Before you tell him goodbye}_**

Pofessor McTwink ushers him a newly poured bourbon which he immediately begins to gulp down.

_Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile_

_The precious moments are all lost in the tide_

_They're swept away, and nothing is what it seems_

_The feeling of belonging, to your dreams_

**_{Listen to you heart, when he's calling for you_**

**_Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do_**

**_I don't know where you're going and I don't know why_**

**_But listen to your heart_**

**_Before you tell him goodbye}_**

He looks... Perfect. His eyes closed tightly as he belts out the song with an intense passion that seems to be swallowing Dave, along with the other bar patrons, whole. He basically looks the same, with the exception of being slightly more filled out and less reedy, he's still the same boy from his past memories.

_And there are voices that want to be heard_

_So much to mention but you can't find the words_

_The scent of magic, the beauty that's been_

_When love was wilder than the wind_

**_{Listen to you heart, when he's calling for you_**

**_Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do_**

**_I don't know where you're going and I don't know why_**

**_But listen to your heart_**

**_Before you tell him goodbye}_**

Dave's heart is racing. He feels flushed, can't seem to distinguish his buzz from his emotional nerves. The boy of his past dreams was there, mere feet away, singing his heart out in a crusty ass broken down gay bar in their old home town. The odds had to be astronomical.

**_{Listen to you heart, when he's calling for you_**

**_Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do_**

**_I don't know where you're going and I don't know why_**

**_But listen to your heart_**

**_Before you tell him goodbye}_**

Kurt whispered out the last few words, his velvety voice mellowing into a lower octave after he had belted the entire song in his normally higher register.

"Thank you," he states simply when the melody dies away.

The bar erupts in cat calls and wild clapping. Dave can't help but bring his hands together in a polite showing of appreciation, though he's surprised he's capable of even the slightest bit of coordinated movement at the moment.

He leaps from the stage gracefully and makes his way toward the bar. Dave can feel himself gulping for air, hunching over his drink as if he could somehow disappear into the bar like a freakish shape shifter or something.

Kurt bounds up to that Ian guy, leaning over the bar, and places a kiss to his cheek before plopping onto the stool directly next to Dave.

"Now that, was what I like to call _sanging_, girlfriend," Ian congratulates.

Kurt rolls his eyes and swats playfully at Ian's shoulder, the blush slowly rising up his pale cheeks.

"Whatever. It gives me something to do other then fend off twinky hunters."

"Too true. So you want a drink before you start?"

"Please. I think a shot will suffice."

Dave is still trying to blend in, his back slightly turned toward Kurt as he nursed his bourbon. _Please, please, please, don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me..._

"So Yogi, another bourbon round before I end my shift?"

_Fuck..._

"I'm good for now."

"K-Karofsky?"

Did he say 'fuck', before? Because - Fuck!

"Um - Hi."

"Kurtie, you know Yogi? Interesting."

"We have some - er - history."

"Well not only is he commandingly built, he's also quite the clever little bear. If you don't want him I'll gladly take him," Ian finishes with a suggestive lick of his lips.

"Ian. Just - get me another shot - "

"Make it two," Dave orders.

"Ooh the fiery sparks you two would make together - "

"The shots, Ian."

"Fine. Whatev's. Just trying to be flirty, and fabulous and help set the mood. My. Bad."

Kurt huffs and chances a look over at Dave. "Don't mind him. It's just that you're his type and the boy is easily influenced by his genitals. They tend to conquer his mind and over-run his ability to think past his dick."

Dave chuckles nervously. "Nah. It's fine."

"Here," Ian hisses irritably, then plasters a smooth grin on his face. "You're up Kurtie. Night Yogi. Hope to see you around."

"Night Ian. And thanks, you know, for the drinks."

"My absolute, searing, and tittilating pleasure," he says while leaning into Dave, teasing his bottom lip with his teeth in another show of overt suggestiveness. Then he retreated away from the bar, a small carrier bag swinging at his thin side.

They both tip back their shots, Kurt making a face at the burning sensation.

"Whew. Still makes me cringe."

Kurt then rounds the bar, going through a waist high swinging door and settles himself behind the bar directly in front of Dave.

"So what brings you to our little home away from home, David Karofsky?"

"Um - Just, wanted a drink."

"Interesting choice of patronage for a drink."

"It's quieter then most of the places in town."

Kurt scoffs. "Right. Because a racous karaoke night full of bantering queens isn't obnoxious in the slightest. I take it you haven't been here on Saturdays either. Or on Drag Show Wednesdays. Those are always priceless and ridiculously loud."

"Wait. Do you - like - work here?"

"And I thought Ian said you were clever. Obviously you came poorly recommended."

Dave frowns while Kurt rolls his eyes. He was still absolutely gorgeous.

"Yes. I work here. Have been for a few years now."

"I thought - I thought you like, ran off to New York or whatever?"

Dave spotted the immediate iciness building behind Kurt's eyes.

"I did. It just - it didn't work out," he retorted in a bitter tone.

"Yeah. I um - I know a bit about that - shit not working out, I mean." Dave slowly sips at his drink, his eyes falling away from Kurt, staring ahead with no true destination.

Kurt leans on his upturned palm, bringing himself into closer proximity to Dave.

"I remember the last time I saw you. It was here. The night that Blaine and I had come here for the first time. You told me about you transferring schools and starting over. That you were feeling happier and felt more ready then ever to eventually come out. I take it _that_ didn't happen," Kurt said, a note of accusation in his words as he nodded toward Dave's hand, the ring gleaming under the neon glow cast by the bar sign.

For some reason, he's now pissed with himself for not taking the damn thing off. He groans and catches Kurt's eye.

"Divorced. Or soon to be."

"So did your wife know about your affinity and revulsion to vagina, or did you figure out in the long run how to enjoy some pastrami to go with your hotdogs?"

Dave shot a scornful look at Kurt, who surprisingly stood firm, his blue eyes daring. His anger however abaded quickly, leaving a desolate, defeated feeling in its wake.

"For the two and a half years that I mascaraded as a married man, I had sex with my wife all of twenty seven times. So what do _you_ think?"

"You know the exact amount of times you had sex with your wife?"

"I'm good with numbers. I was an accountant."

"That's - pretty - sad, David."

"I guess. So speaking of, where's the bow tie sporting hobbit? I recall him being here with you that time. Being a compact, little asshole if I remember right. Still your boyfriend?"

Kurt's glare becomes solidified with the already building ice at the mention of the singing hobbit.

"No," He elicits, his tone clipped.

"Just as well. I could imagine him trying to top you. Like a fucking keebler elf trying to climb a mountain peek or some shit."

"Shut up Karofsky!"

"What? The guy was a certified midget okay?"

"Not all of us are built like a refrigerator with facial hair."

"Not all of us are built with nice asses either." _Shit. _This was going, not at all how he'd imagined.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Kurt was quietly observing him, his hands spread over the bar as he nibbled his bottom lip in concentration. Dave could feel his cock filling up at the prospect of those pouty lips wrapped around his - Shit - Seriously, focus, Karofsky.

"Did you just compliment my _ass_, David Karofsky?"

Dave was chewing on his words, hoping that they would jumble together and create some coherent form of speech. "I - um - I - yes. Yes I did."

A grin spread slowly over the pink lips.

"You're not going to try to hate-kiss me now are you?"

"Nah. I don't hate you nearly enough for that."

Kurt chuckles. The sly grin turning genuine.

"So you want another one? I overheard bourbon, right?"

"Sure. One more for the road."

* * *

One more drink had turned into two, then three, then somewhere along then he'd lost count.

He was talking, and laughing - actually fucking laughing - with none other then _Kurt Hummel_.

It was weird. He'd imagined the scene of them reuniting, many options including taking a bullet from some strangers gun before declaring his undying love, as well as getting the spit slapped out of his mouth and then being verbally thrashed by the little fashionista for his years of torment.

He wasn't sure if he recalled this scene ever playing out. Them just talking, a neutral, rather uneventful encounter with no extreme shows of affection or aversion.

Kurt had said once when they were in high school that he'd forgiven him; that he'd let go of their past and was willing to be friends.

Dave hadn't been sure, even then, but he thinks he chose to stay away because the notion of being friends with someone you felt purely in love with, just wasn't coshier. Not to mention that he wasn't sure if he had forgiven himself for how he'd treated Kurt. Not really.

Oh, and of course there was the whole 'coming out of the closet' thing. But that's a whole-nother can of worms.

"So, ya gonna tell me why you didn't stay in New York, Fancy?"

Kurt sighs heavily. "There's not much to tell really. I got into NYADA - "

"Dude. That's fantastic! Your dream college. Wow."

"How'd you know about that?"

"Oh. Hinn Fudson." Dave slurred without even noticing his mishap. "Heard him rattlin' off about it in the locker room once. You n' that annoyin' as fuck mouseketeer chick were plannin' to go."

"Rachel. And we both made it. But for me, once college was over, the roles sort of stopped and I just couldn't find work. Turns out people aren't really looking for an openly gay male with a voice like mine on Broadway."

"They're fuckin' idiots. All of em'. Kurt you sing, like - a man Celine Dion, or some shit."

"You're sweet. And obviously drunk to have made _that_ comparison. But it wasn't for lack of trying of course. I stayed and worked odd jobs while I kept auditioning. I was a waiter for a while, worked in an upscale bakery, tried my hand at being a florist's assistant. Eventually I got into bar tending. Found the tips to be quite lucrative."

Dave eyed him sadly, Kurt sitting quietly as he nursed some bright orange-yellow swirled drink he'd made himself.

"I just - I got tired of the rejection. And I guess of being lonely. So, I came back. Back to good ole' Lima, Ohio. The place I swore I'd rather skin myself alive then reside in. The place I was supposed to escape from and laugh about with my richy co-stars and actor buddies in my Manhattan high-rise apartment. Now I'll be lucky just to star in a revival of Rent at the local community theatre. Ain't that about a bitch?" Kurt chokes out, a few tears sliding down his pale cheeks.

Dave wants nothing more then to wipe away his tears, but he's scared he may poke out one of his blue eyeballs with how drunk he is at the moment - and wouldn't that be a shame? - His eyes were like other worldy beauitful...

The words are churning, waiting to burst forth. But beyond his haze of drunken-ness, there's still a small iota of restraint buried deep, fighting off his heavy tongue and sticking it against the roof of his mouth to keep him from saying something regretful: like a long awaited love confession for example.

"Life sucks sometimes, huh?"

"Yeah. It really does, David."

"Ya still look good though."

Kurt bites the straw of his self made concoction and slurps up the swirled liquid, sniffling himself into a smile.

"Well, I can see why Ian was making googly eyes at you. You're rather - solid - and your beard, though not normally my style, is kind of cute in a scruffy, rustic, Brawny man-flannely, rugged sort of way," Kurt comments while gently running his fingertips over the hair.

"Thanks. I think."

"You're welcome, I think."

And God does Dave want to pull him forward and kiss him with everything he possesses right now. But he won't. He doesn't want to destroy this weird vibe that had been fostering itself between them, a sort of mingling sense of comfort and underlying... Well, something - he's not sure of what exactly. He can just feel it, and knows that it may be precious and potentially invaluable. And may also in fact implode into a fragile heap of nothing with a simple, misguided, clumsy touch or word.

He can't have that. He won't have that. He'd always thought that this chance would never come; that he would probably never see Kurt again except listed on some playbill or maybe even a movie screen. So he'd resigned himself to thinking of Kurt as the one unrequited love of his life.

He still was, Dave supposed.

"Hello? David?"

Dave had zoned out for a bit. He shook his head, dopey smile in place as he attempted to refocus.

"How're you getting home?"

"Well I got my car out there - "

"Oh, no. Not happening. Look we're getting ready to close soon. I was gonna take a cab anyway. We'll just share it."

Dave loathed the idea of leaving his Baby, (old and decrepid as it was), behind in a parking lot miles from town. But judging by the way he stumbled off the stool and nearly drug Kurt down with him, perhaps a cab couldn't hurt. He could convince his Dad to drive him back to get his Tercel tomorrow.

_Shit!_ His Dad couldn't help him. What the fuck would he say about driving him to pick up his car from a gay bar? Crap... Dave would have to come up with another plan. But at the moment, it wasn't important. He just needed to manage getting home without passing out.

No more then half hour later they were crammed together in the back seat of a taxi. Dave nor Kurt spoke, Dave just enjoying the warmth of Kurt's body being pressed so closely to his as Kurt absentmindedly stared out the window.

He remembers mumbling his address to the cabbie, and eventually coming to a halt that caused him to slump forward.

"Alright ya big lug. Let's go."

Dave sits up, his eyes half closed as he barrels inside his front pocket, trying to squeeze out his wallet.

"What're you doing?"

"Gonna pay," he slurs out.

"No. I got it."

"Can't let you do that - "

"David. It's fine, now come on -"

"No. It's not. Let me just -"

A pale hand grips his wrist, stopping him from continuing to dig in his jeans pocket.

"Dave. I have it. Now let me walk you to your door before you keel over and kill yourself on the curb which is definitely not a very heroic or manly way to kick the bucket if you ask me."

Something about the way Kurt had said his name..._ 'Dave'_ ... Causes him to nod and allow the smaller man to guide him from the taxi, and stumble forward towards his Father's front door.

Kurt is being weighed down by Dave's immense frame as they reach the door step.

"Jesus David. You really are like a Fridge - where're your house keys?"

"Pocket," Dave drawls, trying not to crush Kurt as they rock slightly due to his inebriation.

"Of course they are." Kurt spat sarcastically. "Look, I'm gonna dig my hand in your pocket. I apologize ahead of time if I - um - hit anything else."

Kurt is wiggling his pale digits into Dave's tight pocket, pushing his fingers forward and attempting to claw out the damn keys when the porchlight flashes on, permeating the night and instantly illuminating the pair.

Paul Karofsky is standing in the door frame in his bathrobe, tall and impressive, arms crossed defiantly over the expanse of his chest. His eyes lit with a seething annoyance and maybe possibly a small hint of curiousity.

Dave erupts into giggles, Kurt still standing there, his hand indiscreetly pushed into Dave's front pocket, nearly grazing Dave's member it was so damn close.

"David. I take it you enjoyed your outing."

Dave just keeps laughing, can't seem to stop himself. Kurt moves to smack him but forgets that his hand is practically sealed to Dave which results in Kurt looking like he just made a jerking-off motion.

"Um, hi, Mr. Karofsky. My name is - "

"I know who you are. I remember. Kurt, right? Burt Hummel's boy?"

"Right. Yes. Er - Dave had a little bit too much to drink so I insisted he take a cab. I was just trying to" - And Kurt tugs at his hand again sending Dave into a deeper fit of laughter - "Get -" Another strained pull - "His"- A harder yank that causes the skin of his hand to scrape painfully against the jean material - "Keys-" Kurt cries triumphantly as something metal surfaces from the constraints of the pocket.

Kurt drops the keys wordlessly into the outstretched hand of Dave's father. Dave slouches forward, his Dad taking hold of him while Kurt backs away.

"Well. Okay, then. It was nice seeing you again. I'll just - um - go."

Kurt begins to trek back toward the cab when Paul calls out, "Kurt?"

He turns on his heel, cab door waiting ajar.

"I'm sorry if my son was any inconvenience to you. Good night."

Kurt nods with a wry smile, and quickly enters the cab, which then drives off quietly into the night.

Dave has stopped laughing now, the dizziness overtaking him. He feels nauseated, but he thinks if he can make it to a laying position, he can probably just sleep it off.

Paul is able to corral Dave up the stairs and lay him out on the bed.

"We'll talk tomorrow."

Dave mumbles incoherently in response as he lays his hand over his face, hoping to dispel his nausea in order to pass out. His Father says nothing more as he closes the door behind himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I have to say I'm pretty proud of myself for being able to get these latest chapters up fairly quickly. It may not always be that way but for now, it was nice to be able to do so. SOOooo, this chap contains another chance meeting of an intriguing quality. Least in my opinion. Wonder what person from Dave's past will make an appearance this time around? Read on to find out. And please keep the reviews coming my way. They spurn me forward on a trail of rocket fueled adrenaline and help recede my writers block. By the way, I forgot to answer the question regarding what 'movie nod' I was referring to from chap 1. The line where Dave mentions the 'Japanese golfer joke,' was borrowed from none other than Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Not the whole line, just the phrase 'Japanese golfer joke.' Not that anybody probably cared, but just a fun fact. Shall we move on then?... Delightful.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own nothing but this fic. Also I realized I put _the Roxettes_ in last chaps disclaimer section. It's actually _Roxette_. See, that's what dedicated writing and loss of sleep creates. Made up band names.

* * *

The glass felt cool against his heated skin. Like it was penetrating the ache left over from last night's escapade; diffusing the pain into a dull, less percalating sensation.

He had opted for a taxi back to Scandals to retrieve his car. But not before having to deal with his Father. At least it had thankfully been over a cup of coffee...

_He had been waiting for him. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand and an old newspaper in the other. Dave felt like a kid again as he slowly shuffled over and took the seat his Dad had nodded toward, his head pounding with a stirring measure of pain each step._

_He noticed the steam arise from a cup on the place mat coordinated with where he was pulling a chair out to sit: His own cup of coffee waiting, almost mocking him with its wonderous fresh roasted smell. Fucking beautiful morning with its beautiful painful sunrays and Nicaraguan coffee beans roasted to perfection._

_"You still take it black?"_

_Dave gave a miniscule nod and a murmured, "Thanks."_

_Paul Karofsky removed his reading glasses and laid the folded paper down, observing Dave with a deadpan look._

_"You got in pretty late last night."_

_Dave sipped at the contents of the cup, not caring that it was simmering against his tongue._

_"Yeah. Sorry about that."_

_"It was a school night."_

_For a second Dave thinks his Dad may have warped his adled mind back in a fucking time machine or was just plain working too hard as of late. He hadn't been in high school in like twelve years... Oh, right..._

_"Danny. Shit I'm sorry Pop, I -"_

_Paul raises his hand for silence. _

_"You're a grown man. You can do what you want. But for now, you're under my roof. And if whatever you do affects her in any way, you won't be. Not a second longer then it takes for you to pack. Understood?" _

_Dave nods, the guilt churning along with the coffee he'd managed to get down._

_"You're a visitor, David. And she's my baby girl. I won't have it."_

_"Is she really late? I better - Fuck - I'm gonna have to borrow your car- "_

_Again Paul raises his hand. "I already took her. She's fine. She had breakfast - though I'm sure she was a little disappointed with settling for a Pop tart instead of the stuff you've been whipping her up - and I drove her in on time. Luckily I had today off so it worked out alright."_

_Dave slumps back in his chair, running his hand through his already rumpled morning hair with a relieved sigh._

_Paul resumed staring at his son, his dark eyes roving over the disheveled figure as if figuring something out; like a particularly arduous math problem._

_"So, Burt Hummel's boy brought you back here last night."_

_"W-what?"_

_"Kurt, I believe?"_

_Something about the comment felt probing; a point made to bate a reaction from him perhaps._

_"Oh. Right. Kurt. I - um - ran into him last night."_

_"Hm. I'd heard he was back in town. Well I think it's been for a while now but I hadn't seen him. I've gone to Burt's tire shop a few times for a rotation and what not. He'd mentioned that he'd moved back."_

_"Um - Yeah, I guess." Dave mumbled while trying to hide behind his coffee mug._

_"Where?"_

_"Where, what?"_

_"Where did you meet him?"_

_"Aw - Shit!" Dave had gulped that last swallow down too quickly, the liquid scalding his tongue beyond his normal tolerance. Paul's expression was morphing into one of patented curiousity._

_"Oh. Yeah, I just caught up with him at this one bar. No big deal, really. Um - thanks for the coffee but I need to - er - go get my car."_

_"Don't you want me to take you up to get it? It's no problem - "_

_"No! I mean, no thank you. I don't wanna cause you - You've done enough, so. I'll just get a cab. I'll see you later."_

And here he was, fumbling with his keys while trying to unlock his stupid door. He already missed the feel of the smooth glass against his temples during the cab ride over. Finally after he'd dropped the keys twice, he manages to open the damn door and start up the car.

As he tunes into the radio, punching the dials in hopes of finding something mellow, his mind wanders back to last night.

The lithe, slightly irritating blond constantly calling him Yogi...

The sequined ball gowns and crazy high heeled drag queens gallavanting about...

Seeing Kurt for the first time in years up on that stage...

**_Listen to your heart, when he's calling for you_**

**_Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do_**

**_I don't know where you're going and I don't know why_**

**_But listen to your heart_**

**_Before you tell him goodbye_**

He shakes his head, befuddled by his ability to recall the words so clearly, the way Kurt had his eyes squeezed shut, the sound of his voice, blissful, and authentically _him_...

It had been amazing. Nothing short of it.

Just as he comes across an awesome Eagles tune, the car jerks, jostling up and down forcefully... a tell tale sign of having run something over.

"Aw - Fuckin' Christ on a Cracker! Now what?"

He pulls over and grudgingly gets out to assess the potential damage.

"Great. Completely. Fucking. Great."

The front left tire was rendered flat. He figures he must've caught it on a deep pot hole judging by the violent jerk he'd just experienced less then a quarter mile back. Plus there was no sign of a rusty nail or glass shard which confirmed his assessment. He yanked open his trunk, cursing to himself as he pushed aside empty liquor bottles and trash, only to realize he had no spare.

"Glorious," he laughs with biting sarcasm.

He slams the trunk closed, taking in his surroundings. He had made it back to town gratefully. And then he saw it... Like something out of a fucking movie...

A bus stop bench with a cheesy photo of a familiar face that used to secretly haunt him at random times, is glaring over at him. He subconsciously starts to rub his neck, his deepest memories of his altercation with that face, screaming at him, his elbow pressed firmly into his trachea stirring in his mind's eye.

Burt Hummel was smiling over at him, his Tire shop uniform in place, an aged baseball cap fitted snugly on his head. The words: _Get it Right, Get it Cheap, at Burt's Tire Shop_, are splashed underneath the picture in bright block red letters trimmed in yellow.

If he wasn't as pissed off as he was at the moment, he would've laughed at the underlying suggestiveness of the slogan. God, he was such a fucking gutter brain. Seriously.

Dave looks up at the sky, and exhales. "Alright, I get it."

Then he's back in his car, wobbling the mile and half drive over to the last place he thought he would've found himself at. But of course, he'd thought that to himself about his venture to Scandal's too.

When he pulled up, he was greeted by a middle aged Italian guy, _Louis_, his name tag read, and relinquished his Baby over with a huff.

"Be about fifteen. That work for ya?"

"Yeah. I'll just go wait in the lobby. Thanks."

"No prob buddy."

"Oh, and - is - uh, Burt around?" he inquires, hoping that it came across at least remotely casual.

Louis supplies a lop-sided grin. "Nope. Sorry. Big guy's on his lunch break. Most people get a thrill out of talking with the guy they see in the ads and stuff. It really has been good for business."

"Right. Thanks."

"Sure thing." Louis then disappears inside the garage while Dave makes his way around the side to the glass door of the lobby area.

Dave shakes his head, running his hand through his hair as he plops down in a leather seat in the waiting room. He closes his eyes, praying that he can avoid running into the elder Hummel. It's not that he was scared of him. He wasn't exactly a kid anymore. Maybe the guy just put him on edge... Just a little bit. Hell, it was hard to forget the boiling death glare and icy words accompanied by a choke hold that probably was emulated from 'Best Prisoners Digest.' He closes his eyes, and simply waits.

Thirteen and half minutes later, a familiar voice cuts into the air causing him to shoot his eyes open.

"Alright sir, that'll be fifty for the tire and another thirty five for the" - The man pauses, blinking - "For the spare," he finishes lamely. "Karofsky?"

"Hudson. Still freakishly tall as ever I see."

Finn chuckles and finishes wiping his hands off on the rag draped over his shoulder.

"Yeah. I heard you don't shrink until you're like old, or something. Like really old. Rachel told me that once when she was complaining about having to stretch herself out like taffy to be able to kiss me."

Dave grins. Still the same Finn.

"Dig the beard. You look like Sean Connery. If he was like, sixty years younger and built like a line backer."

"Thank you?"

"Sure. I've tried to grow mine out, but all I can manage is this goatee. The hair on my face grows in weird and comes in patches on my cheeks so I just keep it like this."

He runs his greasy fingers over the hair dusted along his chin and upper lip. It actually looked good on him, made him look a lot less boyish. And his hair was finally finnless, no stupid shark finn to detract from the overall maturity he had acquired. Not to mention him looking more stocky and built, the light blue uniform shirt fitting tightly across his chest.

"Sorry Dude, I'm rambling. Sort of comes with the job, you know, making small talk."

"Nah it's fine."

"So what brings you here anyway?"

"Um - having a flat."

"No, no. I mean, what're you doing here in Lima? Just visiting?"

Apparently 'small talk' had indeed become a character trait of Finn's. He was a bit surprised given their rather volatile high school history. But he supposes that some things do change with time, like long standing teenaged grudges that don't really hold as much water in one's adult life.

"Something like that."

"Cool. How long you planning on staying?"

"Not really sure. Just taking it one day at a time."

"That's cool. I ended up coming back after my second tour."

Hm. A military man. It was hard for Dave to imagine Finn running around in a uniform, let alone shooting at anything. Actually killing people...

"Army?"

"Marines. I was a Corporal."

Dave whistles at this information. Finn smiles sheepishly, that boyish quality emerging through this interesting depiction of maturity.

"They considered me for Sergeant, but you know, then I got injured."

"Damn. That's - Sorry to hear that."

"Nah. It happens. I was lucky. I had a few buddies who didn't make it at all so..." And Dave sees it then; the first display of a hardness, a cool disposition that he'd never known Finn Hudson to ever possess. He could see this Finn pulling the trigger when he had to.

"Anyway, back to your tires. So that's eighty five bucks, dude."

Dave pulls out his wallet to retrieve the cash.

"Hey, is that your daughter?"

"My what?" Dave is genuinely confused by the exclamation. Then he notices where Finn is staring: a picture of Danny and him posing together tucked behind the plastic cover in his wallet.

"Oh, no. Nah, that's my little sister. Danica. But she goes by Danny."

"Oh. Cool. She looks around my daughter's age."

"You have a kid?"

"I do," says Finn proudly. And oh God, he's pulling out his own wallet now. Dave can't help but laugh at the goofy grin on Finn's face as he pulls out a picture of a young blond girl, his same smile, with bright green eyes.

"Her name's Jamie." He relates as he hands over the photo. Dave turns it over in his hand, observing the girl carefully. He hates to think it, but she almost seems too pretty to be a product of Finn's. Not that he wasn't a handsome man, it's just - this kid looked so delicate, fragile almost. Maybe her mother had some strong genes. Although... you couldn't deny that damn 'Finn grin.'

"She's pretty. How old is she?"

"Twelve as of last month."

Dave hands the photo back over and Finn takes his time looking at it before replacing it back in his wallet. "She's growing up so fast. I can't keep up with her half the time."

"My sis is gonna be twelve soon."

"Hm. She doesn't happen to go to Brighton Middle School, does she?"

"Yeah. She does actually."

"Trippy. Wonder if they know each other."

He has to ask it. The kid was blond and he was pretty sure he noted green as her eye color...

"Um - so - you and Quinn Fabray then?"

"Shit no!" Finn bursts out, laughing loudly at the implication. "Last I heard of Quinn she was some kind of lawyer, as ball busting as ever, living out of Manhattan. Nah. Her Mom's name is Amy. We met when I was stationed out at camp Pendleton in San Diego. We did the long distance thing for a while. It was rough, but it in the end, we figured it out. We've been married for about nine years now."

"That's awesome Hudson. Congratulations."

And Dave was a bit surprised with himself, for he had genuninely meant that statement.

"Thanks. So what about you, dude? How many years for you?" He nods at Dave's simple, white-gold wedding band sitting prominently on his finger. Seriously, he really needed to stop wearing this fucking thing.

"Er - almost about three years."

"Wow. That's definitely cool man -"

"But we - um - we're sort of - not together now."

"Oh. That's not so cool."

Dave shrugs while slapping the eighty five dollars on the counter.

"You know, Kurts out here now."

Dave feels the blush slowly creeping up his neck. He physically feels himself straining to try to elicit an impassive expression. It's actually hurting him to do so.

"Really. That's - er - that's cool."

"Yeah. It's been nice having the whole family back together. I know Jamie's definitely stoked to have her Uncle around more."

Dave feels his heart ramming against the inside of his chest. He realizes that he wants nothing more than to ask for Kurt's number. In his drunken stupidity he had completely forgotten to ask. Not that Kurt would've wanted to give it to him. But he could've at least asked. Finn would have it. If he could just muster the words...

Finn had come around the counter holding out a card. Was he a fucking mind reader?

"Here's my card."

Never mind.

"Just in case you have any more car trouble. Or you know, you just want to grab a beer or something while you're in town."

Dave peers at the card.

_Finn Hudson: Co-Manager of Burt's Tire Shop_

Printed neatly underneath his title were his cell number, and the shop's phone and fax numbers. Dave nods and stores the card in his back pocket.

"Thanks Hudson. Maybe I'll take you up on that."

Finn just shoots him the infamous 'Finn grin' and makes his way back around the counter. Dave hadn't noticed it before, but now the slight hobble seems to stand out like a fucking rainbow colored clown wig.

_"They considered me for Sergeant, but you know, then I got injured."_

Dave grimaces, a firm sadness cultivating inside of him. Then he turns to leave.

"Hey Karofsky?"

He halts, the ringing of the door still echoing off the tiled floor as he holds the door open, ready to walk out.

"Everything that happened - You know - Between us, and you and Kurt. It was a long time ago. Christ we were kids. Kurt even told me back in high school that he'd let it go. That he'd forgiven you and was willing to start fresh. And deep down, I know you really were trying, what with that whole 'Bully Whips' thing. Anyway, I figured if Kurt could do that, that I could too. And I have. I just - I think I've seen too much pain and true, undeniable hate up close, to ever want to hold onto it. Life's too fucking short man. So - There you go."

Dave feels his eyes mist over, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat with moderate difficulty.

"Thanks, Hudson."

Suddenly procuring Kurt's number didn't seem as necessary or important anymore, almost silly. He then pushes through the door and leaves without another word.

Yeah... maybe he would actually take him up on it sometime.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** It's like 2:30 in the morning and I'm half asleep. But I had to get this last one out of me (I sound like I'm squeeszing out a terd... haha! Funny) Anyway I apologize if this chap isn't up to my usual standard. Again, sleep was punching me in the face while I wrote but hopefully it's not really noticeable. Enjoy! And as always, please review.

* * *

"When's Dad gonna be home?"

Dave shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the pot of mashed potatoes currently steaming under the pot lid.

"Don't know kiddo. Guess he's running late again."

Danny sighs, her eyes returning back to the PSP game she'd been trying to beat her latest high score on. Dave noticed that anytime she seemed to be in a sour mood, her hand held console would make an appearance at the dinner table. Sometimes he thinks his sister really is too much like him at times.

Dave takes a sip from his beer as he shifts the pot lid over, giving the steam just enough room to breathe out. He pops open the oven and evaluates the Salmon, making sure to monitor for any scalds on the skin or general dryness before closing it back and leaning on the kitchen counter.

"I know he wants to be here. Sometimes he just can't be."

"Yeah. Whatever."

Dave tips his beer back again, watching his little sister sulk with a saddened expression. He can remember countless nights that his Dad had done the same thing to him. He thinks that there are some things that will maybe never change.

"How was school?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes. I said it was fine."

Dave holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Jesus, relax. I was just asking."

"I don't need to ask how _your_ night was."

Dave scowls over at her, taking another long sip before responding. "What does that mean?"

Danny clicks off her game and places it on the table, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Okay, she also definitely had some of those Paul Karofsky mannerisms down packed to a scary degree.

"You came home at 3 a.m."

"Yes I did. I'm also an adult."

"Did you meet anybody?"

"What?"

"Did. You. Meet. Some. Body?"

"No. Not really."

"Then who was that guy who was helping you on the porch?"

"What?"

"I'm not blind you know. Hence these stupid, freaking, gigantor glasses. I saw you pull up with some guy in a taxi."

Dave found himself sitting across from her at the table, his heart starting to pick up speed like a revving car engine ready to explode.

"You were supposed to be asleep."

"I was. At first. But I couldn't help it. Plus it's a little hard to stay asleep when I could hear you stumbling around and laughing like an idiot. So, who was he?"

"Just some guy I knew from high school."

"A friend?"

"Are we playing twenty questions for a reason or - "

"I just wanted to know."

Dave sips his beer, his eyes carefully trained on her, trying desparately to divluge her intentions. "Yeah. Sure. He was a friend."

"He seemed nice."

Dave chuckles. "You've never even met him."

"No. But Dad said he paid for your taxi. That seems pretty nice. And he walked you to the door when you were like, out of it and probably could've crushed him like a can if you would've fell over. Most guys I see on TV shows and stuff don't do stuff like that for other guys."

"Yeah. Well I guess Kurt's a bit different."

"I know him. I've seen him before."

"What? Where?"

Danny is no longer shooting him scathing looks. She seems more relaxed, at ease with the flow of the conversation.

"Outside my school. He was picking up this one girl. A cheerleader."

"Is her name Jamie?"

Danny looks stricken, her eyes widening almost comically. That easy going aura melting away almost instantly. She nodded.

"I saw her Dad today. Finn Hudson. We went to school together too."

"Sweet Merlin, this town is small."

Dave rises from his chair with a laugh, tosseling Danny's hair as he makes his way back to the oven to check on the fish.

"My sentiments exactly kid."

Later when Dave has finished plating everything and has dished out helpings to both Danny and himself, Danny takes it upon herself to break the silence.

"Do you think you're going to ever bring a girl here?"

"How do you mean?" He questions around a mouthful of mashed potato.

"Like, a girl that you're dating."

Dave chews slowly, considering his response.

"Dunno, kid. Maybe."

"So you and Lisa are really done?"

"Can this be the last question that you ask? And I swear I'll answer it if it is."

Danny smiles and nods her head frantically as if Dave would suddenly decide to revoke that last term.

"Yes. Matter of fact, I got word from the realtor that a bids been put on the house so I -"

He stops mid-sentence. Shit. She doesn't know about that. Neither does his Father. Holy hell.

"You're selling your house?"

Too late to backpedal now, he decides.

"Yep. But that stays between us, Danny. Dad doesn't know about it."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

"Yeah. Just - not yet."

"So you're gonna stay?" She asks excitedly.

"I thought we said the Lisa question was gonna be the last?"

"Yeah but there was a technicality. So that just changed the rules."

Dave can't help but smile as he throws a dinner roll over at his sister who ducks and throws hers back without missing a beat.

"Yeah. I'm gonna stay. For a while anyway."

Danny beamed throughout the rest of dinner; even when their Dad failed to show up for dessert.

* * *

He's sipping on his seventh beer when his phone buzzes. He'd been staring at the McKinley yearbook again while laying out on his bed. Danny had went to bed a few hours before, his Dad only just hauling himself upstairs in a zombie-like state before knocking out. And so he found himself alone with his own scrupulous thoughts.

His eyes for once, are surprisingly not glued to the face permanently outlined by a heart, but a face a few pictures over from it.

That stupid 'Finn grin' plastered securely as ever on the semi-tanned skin; that damn shark finn overwhelming the brunette locks with fervor.

He looked so... naive, and eager. Like a dude who's future hadn't yet been decided by fate. A guy who still thought throwing a winning touchdown pass could change the world.

The Finn he saw today, it wasn't the Finn he was currently staring at now. Underneath the same lop-sided grin, was a man who'd met life head on and came out emotionally worse for wear. Dave was certain he'd seen that in the flash of his dark orbs when he described the experience of losing his comrades... a loss of something in himself that you just couldn't get back with goofy grins and reminiscing about past high school memories.

Dave's never been to war, but he thinks he may know that feeling.

He picks up his phone and squints down at the number. He doesn't recognize it. He reads over the text message in his inbox.

**_Greetings David Karofsky. I wanted to make sure that you did in fact live through the night. It's Kurt by the way. - K_**

Dave suddenly felt a jolt that nearly sends him toppling off the bed. He looked at the phone so closely that his nose was practically touching the screen. This had to be a joke. No fucking way...

**_In case you were wondering how I got your number, I got it from the client information at my Dad's shop. Finn has a big mouth. - K_**

Dave wasn't sure what to text in reply. Kurt had actually gone out his way to get his number and then check up on him. What he could say to that? He exhales, then his fingers slowly tap the keys until he's hitting send.

**_Isn't it a bit late? It's like half past booty call hour. A guy could get the wrong idea. - D_**

Dave waited with bated breath. Maybe he should've just thanked him and said good night. But he _was_ on his seventh beer...

**_Oh, I'm sorry. I would think your hand would be tired all ready but apparently you were able to text me back so... - K_**

Dave chuckles as he settles back down on the bed. Smart ass.

**_I'm alive and well Hummel. Thanks for asking. And I can text at the same time. I'm talented like that. - D_**

Less than thirty seconds later a reply lights up his screen.

**_Talented or grossly sad? I'll be the judge of that... And, yep, it's the latter. I have spoken. - K_**

Dave chortles, then immediately shoots back, **_ So what did you want again, Fancy? - D_**

Now the texts become fluid, the words rolling off the pads of his thumbs; their conversation building as naturally as if they'd been doing this for years.

**_To try my hand at being a good samaritan. How am I doing? - K_**

**_I think you've taken the silver medal for best display of stalker tactics. - D_**

**_Whaaat? No gold? For shame. - K_**

**_You seem to have time on your hands. You not working tonight? - D_**

**_Actually no. And excuse me for wanting to make sure you didn't croak. See if I bother in future. - K_**

**_Are you implying that there will be a future with you and I? - D_**

Damn it. He knows that last one was maybe a bit too much. That it could easily misconstrued or taken out of context. He figures that might even be the case as this has been the longest it's taken Kurt to respond since they've started.

**_A future where you stalk me after I have a drunken romp at the gay bar? - D_**

He waits, hoping that this clears up the awkward air following his other proclomation.

**_How can I say no to you when you use the word 'romp' and' gay' in the same sentence. That must be a first for you. - K_**

**_Probably. - D_**

**_David, why are you in Lima? You never really told me. - K_**

Dave feels torn between the truth or making some asinine remark to effectively change the subject. He bites his lip, contemplating his next move.

**_Well, remember when you told me that New York didn't work out? - D_**

**_Yes. - K_**

**_My life didn't work out..._**

He looks over the message, then promptly deletes it. He then re-types another comment and hits send.

**_I've had some setbacks too. One being my wife as you know. I'm just here to give myself a break for a while. - D_**

**_Did you love her? - K_**

**_Yes. Just not like I was supposed to. - D_**

**_Why were you at Scandals? There are straight bars everywhere in Lima. - K_**

**_Call it me taking a break from myself for a while. - D_**

**_You seemed in your element there if I do say so myself. - K_**

**_You just want me to go screaming to everyone that I'm a big homo, lol. - D_**

**_No! Well maybe... A little. But only when you can proudly do so. - K_**

**_I'm not... I think I better say good night. I've got to wake up early tomorrow. - D_**

There was a noticeable pause, and then a new text appeared on his screen.

**_Oh. Ok. Good night, David. - K_**

**_Night, Fancy. - D_**

He felt guilty for ending it so abruptly. But it was just becoming too much. Talking this way, implying that he was gay, being honest about his failed marriage and his feelings, especially with _him _of all people. He tossed his phone on the night stand and rolled over on his side; hoping that sleep, by some miracle, would claim him.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Hey there. This chap took a bit longer to get posted which I figure from here on out they will with my busy work schedule. But as I vowed earnestly before, I'll do what I can to keep em coming when I can. In retribution for my absence, I have made this chappy a tad longer. No real need for warnings on this one. Some cursing (which will be throughout the story of course) but nothing more riskae than that. And also there's some more character introduction and development to be had here. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it - hopefully enough to feel compelled to throw a review my way. Just sayin...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own nothin' but this story idea and dialogue... I don't own the pop culture references, food types or flavors, music, or anything else I used that I may have failed to mention in this lil' ole' disclaimer section. Oh right, especially Glee. Not my idea.

* * *

He pulls the ice cold beer from the fridge, resting it against his forehead in an attempt to siphon the warmth from his heated, sweat slickened skin. He exhales, eyes closed against the cool bottle surface as his mind slowly begins to wander away from the confines of productive grass cutting. There's length setting, line patterns, things of that nature to consider. To any idiot, it was simply mowing the lawn; to Dave, it was a sophisticated art form that allowed him to go on auto-pilot for a while. To just push, cut, and think of nothing but the labor of it all.

He pops off the cap of his domestic beer and tips it back, gulping it down quickly, easily rendering the bottle half empty before he leaves the kitchen.

Damn it... He's doing it again: going over the text dialogue he'd had with Kurt in his head for what felt like the hundred and fifth time. Hell it may actually even be that _exact_ number. It's not an impossible notion. Logically speaking, if you coupled his innate obsession with numbers and utter boredom together, it was bound to happen. Plus he _had_ been an accountant after all.

Dave feels a dawdling sense of guilt at the way he'd left everything. It's been days at this point, and he hasn't even had the balls to call or text Kurt back since.

He decided right then that he doesn't feel like being alone. Unless he's doing something mind numbing like cutting grass. But he honestly couldn't think of anything that he hadn't already fixed, repaired or made better around the house at this point, so he decides to do what big brothers have primitively always done: pester their younger siblings.

Danny had displayed a rather quiescent affect during the car ride home from school, immediately putting in her earphones and drowning out Dave's attempts to strike up small conversation. He didn't push though. Just left her alone to peruse her musical paradise, hoping that maybe she'd find the answers to her problems there and resume her usual good natured attitude.

It had been hours since she'd gotten home and locked herself in the room. The time to find answers in the form of musical sunshine and lyrical rainbows had passed in Dave's opinion.

He's not surprised that he receives no answer when he knocks on the door. By the time he's practically pounding the door down with his fist, he decides to disregard her privacy rule and barges in.

Danny's head phones are blasting, connected soundly to her laptop as she types furiously, her spectacled gazed locked avidly on the computer screen.

Dave waves his hand in the air to get her attention. He moves a bit closer and tries again. Now he's convinced that she's simply ignoring him. He smirks evilly, holding his beer up in a dramatic fashion, as if he's in the midst of actually pouring it over her laptop.

"DAVE! What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention. Now take those off."

She rolls her eyes and rips the headphones away, scowling coldly.

"What?" She spits out.

"Nothing."

Again her eyes are rolling and she reaches over to re-insert her headphones. Dave yanks them from the laptop before she can curl her fingers around the wire and continues.

"Just checking up on you. You haven't been downstairs since you got here, and dinner'll be ready in a little while."

"I'm not hungry."

"When's the last time you ate anything?"

"Earlier - Now can you just leave? Please? I just don't feel like eating."

Dave leans back on her bed, sipping quietly from his beer as he avoids her gaze. He huffs, places his now empty beer bottle down on the side table, then speaks evenly.

"Who was it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know that look Danny. I know it well actually. I used to have it practically tattooed to my face when I first started middle school. Well, pretty much throughout middle school."

"Nobody."

"Did _nobody_ say something to you?"

"Look, just - leave it alone okay?"

Her eyes grow wet as she keeps her gaze carefully trained on the far wall, a point just past his broad shoulder.

"Danny. If somebody's messing with you - "

"What? What are you gonna do? Go kick the entire school's ass? Cause it's basically everyone there that either hates me or just pretends that I don't exist!" She explodes, the tears finally spilling with finality, barreling down her full cheeks with abandon.

"Danny - Not everyone hates you -"

"Pretty much. One minute they're begging me to let them copy my math homework, the next minute they're calling me fat ass and sticking maxi pads to my back pack."

Dave literally feels his heart ache at this information; the sight of his sister looking so hurt making his chest feel akin to a deflating balloon.

"God - Not used ones -"

"No! But still..."

Dave feels slightly relieved that she was given at least this tiny saving grace; forgoing the possibility of being exposed to disease and the utter degradation of having actual tween vagina blood plastered on her belongings.

Sick little fucks.

He thinks off handedly of that movie Carrie... Then he thinks of Kurt... Again... But this time it's of the countless locker checks, the dumpster dives, the stolen kiss that should've felt blissful, but instead left him feeling sufficiently empty...

"Look kid. I know I'm your big brother and anything I say probably means shit to you right now. But I'm gonna tell you anyway."

He looks for any sign of objection. Danny sniffles, letting the tears run, but does nothing to deter Dave. He takes this as a sign to continue.

"When I was your age, I was heavier than most of the other kids. I got picked on everday because of it. It was horrible. And everyday I felt like my life was over. But then another day came, and another day, and then another. They just kept coming and going, no matter how crappy I felt. Then one day, the day finally arrived when it all changed for me. It was when I learned to use my weight to my advantage."

"By sitting on people?" She quips sarcastically.

Dave chuckles. "Nah. I tried out for the school hockey team and learned to bust skulls. It helped me relieve some of that frustration. Especially when I got the opportunity to bash some of the pricks who liked to give me crap. I even gained some buddies eventually. Course people still gave me crap at times, but it didn't matter so much because _I_ felt better about myself."

"Yeah, but I hate sports."

"Danny it doesn't have to be sports. What I'm saying is that you have to learn to accept yourself, find what you're good at, and use it to deal. Screw all these little punks and what they think. More than half of them aren't gonna amount to shit anyway."

Danny wipes at her face, her air of melancholy seemingly disappearing as she finally meets his eye, her lips slowly quirking upward.

"You said shit. Twice."

"So I did," he concedes. "Gonna tell on me?"

"Not if you forget about me using the word 'ass.' "

"Hm. I suppose we can both agree to let it slide."

"Good. I don't mind being in my room. I just don't like the idea of having to _stay_ in my room against my will. It's only cool when it's my choice."

"Makes sense. So... ice cream?"

"Yes, please."

Dave grins at his sister, happy with her ability to elicit such solid resilience in the face of the inevitable cruelty of the middle school experience.

"Um - Dave?"

"Yep?"

"I think you should shower first. You smell like Bryan Howard's gym socks."

He looks down to assess himself. His undershirt was graced with mingled sweat and grass stains. His legs littered with pieces of clipped grass. His body was saturated with sweat, from his dampened hair, to the ringlets and beads of perspiration that had long since dried out along the crevices of his body's most intimate places.

"As you wish my liege. Wouldn't want you to puke in my car."

"Why not? It might just improve it."

Dave lightly cuffs her over the head with a pillow, successfully slamming the door shut just as a pillow sails across the room at him in retaliation.

* * *

"Do you trust me?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Maybe in the future. But for now, no."

Dave is eyeing his sister intently across the table, narrowing his eyes skeptically as she holds her spoon in full on sling shot position; a chunk of broken animal cookie loaded and ready to be shot his direction.

They're sitting at the ice cream shop which is virtually empty, both having their regular orders of two cupped scoops, Danny's exception being the unfortunate switch to the animal cookie flavor as opposed to birthday cake. The damn flavor had an abundace of cookie chunks, which she was finding interesting things to do with besides eat; like trying to shoot pieces into Dave's mouth.

Dave releases a heavy sigh, then shoots her a mock death glare.

"You blind me, you walk home."

"Deal."

Danny begins to pull back on the spoon, trying to take proper aim while Dave opens his mouth, ready for his retina to get smacked and scratched to shit by colorful sprinkles; which he was willing to take, if it kept his sister laughing like she'd been since departing on their impromptu ice cream mission.

They hadn't even noticed the pair come in until a rather tall man was looming over them, a broad grin centered on his face.

"Yo! Karofsky!"

Danny is startled and shoots the cookie off target which forcefully beans the dude in his nose with gusto.

Dave grimaces apologetically as Finn rubs at the spot just above the bridge, right where his eyebrow and nose connect.

"Oh - I - I'm really sorry -"

"No, no. It's fine," Finn assures Danny.

Finn notices the animal cookie had settled just above the breast pocket on his beige jacket, and he wastes no time in popping it in his mouth.

"Mm. Animal cookie. Good choice."

"Dad - Ew!"

"What? It was an animal cookie. You can't say no to those," He says imploringly.

"Whatever."

Dave takes in the petite figure being practically obscured into non-existance by Finn's towering frame. He sees a cheerleading ensemble, complimentary blue and yellow colors adorning the uniform, the blonde hair pulled up into a high pony tail, distinctive green eyes sparkling with obvious discomfort, and he was sure the infamous 'Finn grin' would be present if the girl wasn't currently scowling so deeply, Dave was sure she'd have the capacity to pass for forty by next week if she kept it up.

"So you must be Jamie?"

"Yeah."

Finn gives her a nudge with his elbow which results in her rolling her eyes and grudgingly rephrasing her statement.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dave. And this is Danny."

Dave hadn't noticed until that moment how distant Danny had gotten since their arrival. She was quietly avoiding their gaze, finding her hands suddenly very interesting.

Jamie looked a bit stricken at the introduction, her eyes widening upon seeing Danny, who was now blushing profusely.

"Oh Danny. Your little sister, right?" Finn inquired. Dave simply nodded his confirmation as he observed the kids lack of an exchange with scrutiny.

"Cool. I'm Finn, Danny. I'm Jamie's Dad."

Danny timidly reaches out and allows Finn to engulf her smaller hand in his as he shook vigorously.

"So, you guys out for some ice cream too, huh?"

"Yeah. Sort of becoming a before dinner tradition," Dave supplied half heartedly, his eyes still volleying between to the two girls completely looking as if they'd rather sink into the floor and disappear than be entertaining this random encounter.

"Cool. I totally wish we had a tradition like that. Amy would probably kill me though. That and between my hours and this one's cheer schedule, it's kind of hard to fit stuff like that in. But we manage every blue moon."

"That's good. Definitely good. Um - I think we were just finishing up - "

"Hey we'll join you for a bit. You know, before you go."

"Oh, uh - "

Dave looks over at Danny who's wide eyes are clearly communicating that she'd rather have a barrel of maxi pads dumped all over her... possibly even used ones, than to suffer sitting here in present company.

"Maybe we should - "

"C'mon, just for a minute. We know you guys have dinner to get to so we won't keep you. James have a seat. I'll go get our cups. Scoop of cotton candy, right?"

"No. Just plain vanilla."

Finn's eyebrow rocketed upward at this admission. "Just vanilla? No sprinkles? Oreo cookie bits? The animal cookie was pretty good. Wanna try that?"

"Dad. _Just_ vanilla, okay? Please."

Finn shrugged and retreated to the counter leaving the three of them sitting in a stifling air of pre-teenaged angst and an impenetrable, solid wall of discomfort as Jamie slides into the booth next to Danny. They immediately shirk away, acting as if they'd explode if they happened to brush against each other, or make even the subtlest hint of contact.

"So, you two go to the same school I hear."

Neither girl spoke. Fucking Finn and his complete and apparently never changing obliviousness.

"What grade you in Jamie?" Dave tries again, hoping the direct approach will at least help him last until Finn returned with their ice cream. Then at least Jamie could rely on that as an excuse to avoid having to talk.

"Sixth," she drawls.

"Um - cool. Danny's in the sixth too. Right kiddo?"

"I didn't _forget_ what I'm grade I'm in," Danny snaps.

Dave's expression darkens momentarily at the acidic tone, but he knows his sister well enough to garner that it wasn't actually directed at, or even meant for him. This attitude almost always stemmed from her misguided sense of inadequacy. The girl could be down right venomous when she was unsure of herself. That, or hurt. It always brought out the worst in the kid. Another unfortunate trait she happened to share with her brother.

"Well geezer's like me aren't so lucky. Six... six... Right - the number that comes after five. Got it."

Jamie sits up straighter at this comment. A very thin veil of a smile hinted on her carefully glossed lips.

"So, cheer leading huh?"

"Yeah. I like to dance so..."

"I commend you. I was never quite so blessed in the dancing department myself."

Dave can see a vague version of the 'Finn grin' forming as she responds quietly, "neither was my Dad. He's kind of awful."

There was a total lack of heated accusation or embarrassment in her words as she shoots a covert look of fondness at the tall brunette now making his way over to them, two cups in hand. Dave still hadn't gotten used to the limp.

"What did I miss?" Finn questions jovially as he scoots in next to Dave and hands his daughter her cup of plain vanilla.

"Nothing much. Just that I can count up to six, Jamie likes dancing, and you somehow managed to be a better quarterback than a dancer."

Finn pulls his spoon from his mouth with a chuckle. "Okay. I got this. Congratulations dude. I can see a bright future filled with like counting couch change, and Jamie's always loved to dance - thank grilled cheesus above that she picked up that gene from her mother - and it's no secret how terrible of a dancer I am. Even before I got - "

Finn trails off uncomfortably. Jamie's eyes dart away from him, her cheeks becoming pink as Finn clears his throat awkwardly. He then presses on, a feigned smirk meant to overcompensate for his near slip.

"Anyway, you know how bad I was man. Even back in high school. You remember that Thriller number we had to do?"

"A nightmare in its truest form."

"Exactly."

"The zombie make up was pretty cool though."

"Totally."

"You danced to Thriller?" Danny poses, her curiousity seeping through her attempts to remain aloof.

"You wore make up?" Jamie seconded.

"Zombie make up. Big difference. And yes - we had to dance. Well, actually we had to perform this whole mash up number of Thriller and the Yeah, Yeah, Yeah's, Heads will Roll. The school glee club and the football team had to do it together during half time of the championship football game."

"Was your school so poor that like - they couldn't afford cheer leaders or something?" Jamie scoffs.

"Er- Sort of a long story," Dave interjected.

"It was pretty epic. Even your Uncle Kurt swore that it was likable, including my dancing - Oh, speak of the devil - "

_Fuck..._

Dave was certain that the same sentiment had flashed across the pale face causing him to halt mid-step, and squeeze his satchel strap a bit tighter before proceeding forward toward the group.

"In a blue Prada shirt none the less. I didn't know you guys were going to be having an ice cream social."

"Pull up a chair Bro. We were just catching up with Karofsky, I mean - sorry, old habit - Dave, and Danny here. Remember I told you he was in town."

Kurt grabs a nearby chair and scoots it to the table, gingerly laying his bag down and seating himself, blue eyes roving over the aformentioned pair as if assessing something with a seering intensity.

"That you did. David - " He greets coolly, then states more cheerfully, "Hello Danny. I'm Kurt. I take it introductions have already happened so this part will make more sense, but I'm Finn's brother, and this one's" - Kurt playfully nudges Jamie's shoulder which she surprisingly accepts with a smile - "fabulous Uncle."

"Um - Hi."

"Lovely to meet you. And I can tell we'll be getting along. I've never met a young person who could appreciate the sinful deliciousness of black cherry."

Danny slowly uncrosses her arms, the tightness of her grimace lessening marginally.

"I - I've always liked it. My mom used to get it for me."

Kurt's blue eyes mist over, an almost supressed sadness swimming within the blue, though his smile remains in tact, beaming and as pleasant as ever.

"Ours was butter pecan, my Mom and I. Not a standard favorite for kids even back then, but I couldn't bring myself to care."

Dave feels a twinge of something... A past hurt that always found its way back to him un-announced and nearly palpable when he didn't forcibly shun it away.

He'd never had a shared ice cream flavor with his Mom. He determines if they'd indeed had anything together, it had been books. It was something that had developed into his form of escapism, even long after she wasn't there to read them to him anymore.

"You didn't tell me you had a daughter, David."

Dave shakes his head, bringing his mind back to the present. Wait - what?

"Sorry?"

"Danny. You didn't mention you had a child - "

"See, that's what I said too," Finn bursts out, as if hoping to be placated. "You guys look totally alike."

Hm. Did Dave sense a bit of accusation in Kurt's tone?... Interesting.

"First off, no, she's not my daughter. She's my little sister. And that tends to happen when you have the same Dad, Finn."

"Right. I know. Genetics and stuff. But she could seriously be your kid."

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to ward off the head ache he's sure will be due soon.

"And wait - you said that kind of like you guys already saw each other or something. Kurt, you told me you didn't know about Dave being here."

Shit. Seems Hudson did indeed learn to improve his powers of deduction to a rather astounding degree after all - Well, for _him_ anyway. So, Kurt hadn't spoken to Finn about their Scandals randavous. Again, interesting...

"I just meant - he hadn't mentioned it yet. As we're sitting here. At this table. Right now."

"Oh. Right."

Close one, Dave thinks.

"Aren't you guys, sort of like, friends though?" Danny probes.

Fuck... Again - Fuck.

"Um - sure, you could say that kiddo."

"Because I remember seeing you before. You were in front of my - "

Dave is praying to all that may be holy and divine for Danny to be able to read the underlying panic buried in his wide hazel orbs, and cease, desist, and just plain fucking - stop - talking.

"Er - School. Yeah. I saw you in front of the school once."

Dave feels himself sag slightly with the weight that had been lifted with her horribly conspicuous, yet somehow successful amendment. Thank you to whoever this grilled cheesus character was. Seriously.

"Oh. Okay," Kurt replied, sounding oddly breathless.

He wasn't sure if it was possible for Kurt to get any paler, but he was certain that his already pale skin had been nearing translucency under the pressure of being 'outed' - no pun intended.

"You um - were picking up Jamie I guess."

"Of course. Sort of comes with the territory of being a fabulous Uncle as I mentioned before."

"Uncle Kurt, are you actually going to _get_ any ice cream?"

"True, dude. That was originally the point of you meeting us here."

Kurt exhales, tapping his chin with a thin digit as if in deep thought.

"Not sure. I'm a little worried I might go over there and buy up the whole store since I've deprived myself of that oh-so, blissful, sugary goodness for as long as I have."

"Here - " Danny exclaims, pushing her own bowl forward and adding the extra spoon she had yet to use - apparently her plan to use it for a back up sling shot was deemed a decidedly less significant need. "The animal cookie is pretty good. You can try it if you want."

"I second that. Well, the cookie part. I didn't try the actual ice cream," Finn added.

Dave catches Kurt's eye. They share their first actual smile - a genuine, honest smile - since Kurt's arrival. Dave can feel the pressure from their last grievance melt away with the simple gesture, like an un-spoken fresh start had bloomed between them.

"You know. I believe I'll take you up on your offer Danny. Besides anybody who can appreciate the magic of black cherry, definitely has my vote of confidence."

When Dave and Danny finally exit the ice cream parlor over forty five minutes later, Kurt catches up to them just outside the door.

"Hey."

"Hey," Dave greets with an air of curiousity.

Danny is watching the two intently, both men remaining silent, Kurt sort of bouncing on his heels, Dave's hands shoved in his pockets. After a few awkward beats of non-verbal communication, Danny mutters, "I'll just er - be in the car."

"Yeah. I'll be there in a minute."

"It was really nice meeting you Danny," Kurt calls after her.

"You too Mr. Hummel."

"Kurt sweetie. I may be older but I'm nowhere near my Dad's age."

Danny nods with a smile after taking Dave's keys, and disappears inside Dave's Tercel making quick work of trying to locate a decent song on the radio.

"So, I didn't take you for an adrenaline junky Fancy. All that excitement and the various moments of near heart failure in there wasn't enough for you?"

Kurt chuckles, his cheeks tinged with a rising pink blush.

"I'm scared to death to ride a motorcycle - too many bugs, and not enough hair spray - I got to get my kicks somewhere Karofsky."

"That's Mister to you."

"Well, _Mr. _Karofsky, I just wanted to - to, apologize. For the other day."

To say he was surprised by this revelation would be a gigantic understatement.

"Wha - why?"

Kurt seems almost sheepish, his blue eyes gravitating away from Dave, skimming over the grainy side walk.

"Our conversation. What we texted about - I - I was unfair to you." Kurt glances back up to meet his gaze directly. "I shouldn't have pryed and I shouldn't have been so pushy, and I'm sorry."

"Um - it's okay - It's not a big deal - "

"It is actually. Your life is _your_ life. And your choices frankly aren't my business."

"Well since you're apologizing, I think it's only fair that I do the same."

"Okay. Now I'm confused."

"Kurt, I was a dick. That whole night, I was drunk and you paid for my cab, and I almost crushed you, and - the way I jumped off the phone - I was a dick. So, sorry for my supreme dick-ness."

Kurt is smiling broadly. Dave can't help but allow his own grin to spread half-hazardly across his lips in response. He's sure it probably looks ridiculous, but his care meter has lost some points since he gleened the other man's expression, aimed inexplicably at _him_, Dave Karofsky, of all people.

"I suppose all can be forgiven. And a suggestion if I may?"

"You may. Wait - as long as it doesn't involve sequins and lip stick then, cool."

"Damn it. Aw, well."

"Wait - Seriously?"

Kurt rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion. "Contrary to popular belief, not every gay boy needs to go drag. And no offense, I can't see you rocking stiletto heels. Or platforms. Or actually, any form of a woman's shoe or apparel."

"That makes two of us. I'd make a pretty atrocious specimen of female."

Kurt giggles, biting his lip cutely. "Yes, you would. Plus I like you like this. All - manly man - I need to be in an axe commercial and chop fire wood while I ride a horse."

"Wow. You're extra special Fancy."

"Too true David. And the suggestion is I'd be happy for you to pay me back for the cab ride. I take cash or check. But ideally I'd rather your company at a place of my choosing."

"Hm. Go on."

"Do you accept?"

Dave's eyes narrow, his grin still set as he runs his fingers over his beard thoughtfully.

"Yes. I accept."

"Good. Then I'll see you at Scandals. Tomorrow night."

Dave was honestly only mildly annoyed with the determined location. He couldn't manage full on frustration. Not when Fancy had just invited him to hang out. He and Kurt would be in the same place together, not by circumstance, or dumb luck, but because Dave had been invited by the man himself. Yep, no anger necessary.

"I can do that."

"Good. I'll see you then," and he retreats back inside the ice cream shop without so much as an over the shoulder glance.

It isn't until Danny starts honking the horn that he realizes that he's still standing there staring at the spot Kurt had disappeared from. He feels a new spring in his step as he wanders back toward his car and ducks inside, beaming as he turns the key.

"I like him," Danny comments off handedly.

"Him who?"

"Mr. Hummel. He's nice."

"Yeah. Um - he is."

Suddenly Dave recalls the weird vibe that had been swelling between the two middle schoolers during their informal ice cream meet.

"So, I gotta ask. What's the deal with you and Jamie? You were acting like she was gonna bite your head off or something."

"What? No - it's nothing."

Dave had learned that Danny's version of 'nothing' meant that there was definitely _something. _

"I take it you do know each other then?"

"Look I don't wanna talk about it."

"I figured. Danny, look - the more you shut down the more I'm just gonna pester you. You might as well save us both the painstaking embarrassment and time and just talk, kid."

"Fine. Jamie Hudson is one of _them_."

"Them? What're you talking about?"

"She's one of the cheer leaders. You know - the popular kids."

"Well, that sort of goes with the territory when you're a cheer leader for a school - "

"She's also one of the people who makes fun of me," Danny finishes darkly.

Dave gives her a side-long glance as his knuckles whiten against the steering wheel.

"W-was she a part of the whole - maxi pad - thing?"

Danny nods, her eyes becoming glossy behind her thick glasses.

"I mean - she didn't actually - put them on my back - but she was there. She was laughing along with the rest of them."

"Danny. I'm really sorry - "

"She usually isn't the one who says things or whatever. But like I said - she's always there."

"You could've said something Danny - we didn't have to stay there - "

"I know. But Mr. Hudson was really nice. And, I thought - I thought it was good for you to be talking to another adult besides Dad. You need that. I can see in your face how lonely you get sometimes. I worry..."

She balked, effectively halting when the tears became too much to hide. Dave never felt so unworthy of someone's love than in that moment... And that was saying something given his history with Kurt. She wiped at her eyes, took a shaky breath, and then continued.

"P-plus when Mr. Hummel came, I - I didn't think you'd wanna go right away - since you're like, friends and stuff."

Dave felt his heart beating quickly, his grip on the steering wheel so fierce, he was sure he could rip it off completely with one good tug.

He couldn't help but feel a sordid, vile, expansion of guilt plaguing his very being - like this was some sort of twisted karmic punishment for his years of being a tormenting asshole; his sense of self worth so low, that the villanous fuck - also known as karma - decided to go for the one person Dave had given all of his remaining sense of purpose to, his Danny... his innocent, un-deserving little sister who he'd do anything for.

"Do you - do you want me to talk to her Dad about it?"

"No! No, it - it'll probably just make it worse. I can take care of myself."

Dave knew better then to push her. It was quite the accomplishment that he'd even gotten her to disclose as much as she had. He would take that as a small victory, and figure the rest out later... When he wasn't ready to ram his fist through the fucking window and make it a matching set with the already destroyed, memory of a window that was now shabbily taped up.

"I know you can handle yourself Danny. I don't doubt that. But I want you to tell me when people bother you from now on. Nobody is so perfect that they can't use some help some times. You're not in this alone, kid. And you never will be again. But only if you let me in. Even if it's just some times. Okay?"

"I - I'll think about it."

"Okay. I'll take that."

Dave exhales, trying to quell the myriad of emotions seething within him. Fuck he wanted a drink.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I've noticed a pattern... That the longer I take to update, the lengthier the chapters seem to become. I guess that's sort of good thing, and maybe helps make the wait more tolerable. Perhaps... Just sayin... But anyway this one was really fun for me to write, especially in lieu of a stressful work week. A lot more dialogue (which I particularly love writing), and a few cameo appearances (or not, you may see more of them not sure yet) from Glee, Season 3 that you may recognize **(again please note that season 3 doesn't really apply to this story per say, but I couldn't resist using some of the characters that were introduced, they just seemed to fit so nicely). **

**Warnings: **Typical cursing, slurs, stuff of that nature... some slashy innuendo and blatant sexy talk. There's a **mention of implied suicide or suicidal ideation **but again it's implied. Also, I apologize if the comments (which I completely made up and are unfounded by the way) about any historical/musical icons are offensive. I did find them amusing to write however, but, no offense to any potential fans out there.

**Disclaimer:** I don't honestly remember everything I referred to in this chapter and I'm sure the list would be huge so let me just say, I own nothing musically, cinematically, historically, culturally, or any other miscellaneous things otherwise referenced in this chap. And I think there was a lot... Even Axe body spray (oh wait that was last chap, meh' whatever you get my drift) - don't own it or promote it, but I heard it makes women's panties melt off or something. S'what I heard, don't judge me!

* * *

"Well hello there, Yogi. Don't you look quite delectable this evening."

Dave's eyebrow raises, nearly disappearing into his hairline as he slowly approaches the bar where Kurt was currently perched.

"I'd say thank you Ian, but I'm scared that it might be twink code for sexual favors or like - a filthy sanchez or something."

Kurt throws his head back with genuine laughter, smacking Dave in the arm for good measure. Once his giggling subsides, he happily sips from the straw sticking up from what looks to be a sizable margarita.

"Don't be too harsh David. Ian here has a point. You look - dare I say - presentable."

"It's the vest. I heard it's a lesbian trademark. I figured that way I could still look like I'm into women but simultaneously serve as a covert representation of the rainbow community," He concluded with a wink. Kurt is bubbling over with giggles. Dave is unsure that his comments are just that amusing, or that Kurt's smaller frame is simply over-saturated with alcoholic content.

Judging by the hefty size of that margarita glass, it's probably the latter.

Dave trails his gaze over Kurt as the other man kept his eyes locked on the gradual disapperance of his margarita, sucking sinfully hard on the twirly straw buried in the reddish blend.

He was again dressed in skin tight jeans, dark boots coming up to his knees, thin black suspenders over a brilliant fuscia dress shirt, short sleeved and just as tight fitting as those fucking pants, and what Dave referred to as a colonel sanders tie. His hair was as always coifed to perfection, and his pale cheeks were deliciously tinged by pink at the moment, a sign of both his alcoholic consumption and recent bouts of laughter.

Dave just thinks he looks absolutely gorgeous. Hell if the dude was wearing a fucking burlap sack, he'd still be beautiful.

"So Yogi - which by the way, that vest only works to enhance my philosophy that you are truly Yogi the bear - a double bourbon right?"

Dave sinks into the stool next to Kurt and shakes his head. "Nah. I'm thinking a Jack and coke will do Ian."

"Coming. Right. Up. Mr. Bear," Ian whispers in a grossly sexual manner.

"Um - Cool. I appreciate it."

Dave wasn't going to say of course, but he had a plan tonight. A pre-emptive strike if you will. It was simple: be attentive, be flirty, and don't get too hammered.

He wasn't sure what the outcome of this plan would be. He honestly didn't even know what he was expecting to happen. All he knew was he had to stick to it in order for good things to occur. He was sure of that.

Four drinks in he was a little buzzed, but not sloppy, and Kurt had already switched over to water.

"So you're trying to tell me that Terminator, the gory, prefunctory film about future robots taking over the world would make a good musical?"

"Yes, Fancy pants. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"How?"

"Dude. It has action, romance, angst... It's chalk full of all the shit a musical should have. Plus you have a leading lady - Sarah Conner, the leading man - Kyle Reese, and of course the villain of all villains - the pinnacle of bad ass-ness himself: the fucking Terminator. That shit would be historical."

"Oh - I'm sorry. I thought you said hysterical."

"Whatever. You'd love it."

"I'm learning that your mind is indeed a strange place David Karofsky."

Dave just smiles as he sips from his jack and coke. Not only was his argument valid, it was down right good. They both fall silent for a brief moment as they contemplate their conversation.

"Only if I get to be Sarah Conner. Then it's tolerable."

Check mate. He knew resistance was futile.

"I'd want to be the Terminator. Hands down."

"What? He's the bad guy - "

"They get to do the coolest shit, though."

Kurt rolls his eyes as he tips back his bottle of water. "Typical boy."

"Man. And yes. I'm easily entertained by cheesy one-liners and shit blowing up. Sue me."

"I would if there was such a thing as unlawful injustice to musical theory."

Dave's laughter is cut short by a random guy slipping his hands over Kurt's eyes from behind.

"Guess who?"

Dave feels himself bristle, ready to attack, but stops himself at the sight of Kurt's rising blush and growing smile.

"Someone who obviously can't tell time."

"You got me," and the douche pulls his hands away. "But I hope you'll let me make it up to you," and out comes a single rose from behind his back. What a fucking cheese ball.

Kurt is unfortunately eating it up though as he takes time to smell it, the tell-tale blush painted over his entire face now.

The guy was taller, definitely had Dave by a few inches for sure. And he was pretty built Dave grudgingly admitted to himself; he could see that even though the assclown was dressed in a suit and tie. His face was angular and clean shaven, and he had deep green colored eyes that were currently ravashing Kurt two ways till Sunday.

"So this is your friend you mentioned," unidentified douche queried, nodding toward Dave.

"Yeah. This is my friend David."

His _Friend_. David.

Douche held out his hand. Dave wasted no time as he crushed it in a firm grip - douche narrowing his eyes as he confidently matches the strength displayed in Dave's hold.

"Nick."

"Dave," he retorts.

Wait - Nick - Nick... Holy snowflakes in June...

"Nick. As in Nick Harris. Carmel High. Class of 2012?"

"Yeah. How did you - Oh - Ha! That's hilarious. Dave fucking Karofsky. No way man!"

Kurt looks just as bewildered as Dave felt.

"Do you two know each other?"

"Hell yeah I know this guy. He helped bring our football team to a regional championship and got us two games away from taking state. How the hell are you, man?"

"Er - Good. Stoked... And stuff."

"Okay. Alright dude. Small world indeed."

"Right. Microscopic."

"Weird. I didn't really recognize you at first - You know with the whole beard deal, and the few extra L-B's, you could be a completely different guy."

"Mm. Yep. Completely."

And just like that, Dave flashes back to his high school memories of this particular figure. The most glaringly memorable ones being Nick's days of shoving freshman into their lockers and calling them faggots, practically torturing a sophomore swimmer into committing suicide after spreading rumors about him being an ass rimmer via facebook. The kid ended up transferring and moving out of state. Nick Harris had been one of the main reasons that Dave had kept his closet door shut tight. And now here he was, at the gayest club in Lima, his arm wrapped around Kurt like a fucking over-protective squid.

"So what have you been up to Karofsky?"

"Nothing... At all. You?"

"Plenty dude. I'm a junior financial analyst for this business corp. Making pretty good figures too. I play in this adult football league on weekends, you know, try to keep the body right - But course, I don't wanna bore you with that."

"Definitely not. Excuse me for a minute. I'm just gonna hit the bathroom."

Kurt shoots him a look of concern which Dave promptly ignores.

"Sure man. But you might want to think twice about breaking the seal. You'll have to keep going all night," Nick called after him.

"I'll keep that in mind," He calls back shaking his head in disbelief as he closes the gap between himself and the bathroom. "Fucking douche," he mumbles to himself as he pushes the door open with a surge of enormous hostility causing the twink inside to yelp in surprise and scatter.

He doesn't actually use the bathroom. Instead he clutches the sides of the sink, willing his heart rate to slow down; for his rage to simmer into at least a tolerable anger - some form of frustration that doesn't feel like manifesting itself into him wrapping his hands around that fuckwad's throat.

After splashing his face with water a few times and reciting the words, 'don't smash Nick's face in,' like a mantra, he re-enters the bar area. His determination to keep his inner Hulk - well - inside his innards, is almost restored to its fullest potential.

What he's greeted by upon his return however, punctures that determination like a fucking bullet through flesh.

"David. This is my friend Chandler."

Another fucking blond twink he thinks irritably to himself - peaks his head around Nick and shoots an appreciative smile in Dave's direction. The guy is tiny. Wiry, but short. He has on a beanie, thick hipster glasses, and has a fresh out of college, know it all sort of disposition about him.

"So you're David, eh?"

And then he speaks - And God it just got worse... As if Dave had forgotten his own fucking name.

He looks over at Kurt who is not so innocently wrapping his arms around Nick's neck, whispering in his ear like a sensual little succubus. Dave thinks he's just doing anything in his power to avoid the scathing, absolutely skin peeling look that Dave is currently fixing him with.

"Hey," Dave nods in response.

He can smell it. This shit has 'blind fucking date' written all over it in gigantic neon pink letters. The way that Kurt and Nick seemed to be shrinking away from the pair of them. The way Kurt kept shooting conspiratorial glances in their direction, grinning stupidly, as if he was actually doing Dave some sort of favor.

"Ian, I'll take you up on that bourbon."

"A bourbon man. Ooh, that is so Sinatra a la 1957 when he recorded his classic hit _Angel Eyes_. Are you into one Frank Sinatra? I mean how could you not be - the man. Is. A legend. A blue eyed captivator of souls. I just wish people our age would learn to appreciate his genius more."

"That wouldn't happen to be fifteen would it?"

Chandler laughs obnoxiously loud; a weezy choked burst of laughter that sets Dave's teeth on edge.

"You are a sharp one aren't you?"

"A regular Ginsu," he replies dryly.

Ian sets his drink down and pats him gently on the shoulder as he whispers, "I gave you a little extra, Yogi."

"Bless you," Dave mumbles back.

* * *

Dave is hunched over his drink, wishing that he was anywhere but here.

Kurt is laughing loudly - a most agreeable sound that caused a loathsome affliction to seize Dave - while mock-slapping Nick on the shoulder as the other man pulls him forward and attaches himself to the diva's pale throat.

Dave knocks back the rest of his drink. It's dark, maybe a bourbon... Hell who knew at this point. His taste buds felt useless and numb at the moment.

He looks over his shoulder and notes that the karaoke is still going strong, some trucker looking dude sliding off stage, smacking a high five to another trucker and earning a smattering round of applause and a shot for his effort.

Chandler is talking. Again. Damn the fucker was a chatterbox...

"And it's so crazy you know? I just don't see how they could say that about Judy Garland. Sure she was a raging pill popper and obsessed with her career above all else, but that's what the demands of stardom created, you know?"

"Mm. Sucks. Wizard of Oz. All bad. IAN! Another... whatever I just had."

"Wow. You really are a drinker aren't you?" Chandler comments with a titter.

"I was gonna say the same. Don't you think you should take it easy Mr. Karofsky?" Kurt asks as he sidles up to the two, blue eyes glinting with incrimination. Nick was walking toward the ATM machine posted in the far corner.

"Don't you think you should focus on occupyin' your mouth with suckin' Nick's face off instead of usin' it to tell me what to do?"

Kurt appears momentarily confounded, but then a composed smirk slips back onto his face.

"I plan to. But for now, I'd rather use it as to serve as the voice of reason reminding you of the last time you drank until your eyeballs were swimming."

Dave hates that he's still sober enough to recall the judgemental, fearsome aura that was his father in the moment where he stumbled up the porch with Kurt tucked under his arm.

"Touche, Hummel."

"Thought so."

"So you guys were friends back in high school?" Chandler queries while sipping from what looks to be a dry martini - another Sinatra favorite Dave notes.

Dave and Kurt look at each other wide eyed.

"Er - well, we -"

"Yes. Yes we were Chandler. Inseperable," Dave remarks merrily, wrapping his arm around Kurt for good measure. Kurt rolls his eyes but then easily plays along, making sure to play up his contrived sense of irritation.

"Right. I gave him invaluable fashion tips while he helped me learn to swing a club or stick or, um - whatever."

"Saucy," Ian leers with a wink while he walks by to fill another drink order.

Dave feels the smile creep over his lips, Kurt rolling his eyes again as the blush slowly rises.

"I'm gone a few minutes and you already move in on my guy, huh, Karofsky?"

Nick walks up, the fakest grin ever sealed on his stupid face. Dave removes his arm with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"I was just keepin' him warm. Bear protocol."

"Indeed." Nick leans forward and plants a kiss on Kurt's lips possessively. Kurt reciprocates with a chaste peck and immediately pulls back.

"Um - Chandler and I are going to the Ladies room for a bit. Shall we?"

"Oh good. I'm never opposed to an opportunity to freshen up."

"Have fun you two," Nick yells out, a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows following suit.

"Trust me - _Not_ - each others type. Head out of the gutter Nicholas."

Nick chuckles at his own cleverness and returns to his beer as the two saunter off to the bathroom.

"So..."

"So, how long has Kurt been 'your guy' as you put it, Harris?"

"Well it depends on how you mean it. If we're talkin' fuck buddies than about six months. Course it took about that long just to get him to agree to _anything_ with me. He can be kind of a prudish little bitch, that one."

Dave is tingling, and not with little heart shaped balloons filled up with love.

"So you're not together?"

"Nah. You and I are a part of the same club," and Nick raises his left hand, the tan line where a wedding ring should've been, suddenly so pronounced, Dave felt slow for not noticing it before.

"I'm divorced," Dave growls.

Nick laughs. "I'm not. But Kurt knows about it. He understands."

The tingle is building into a slow burn.

"Fuck buddies. Got it."

Nick turns toward Dave, facing him fully.

"Who would've thought - the legendary Dave Karofsky - the Tank - mowing over guys on the field like they were fucking legos - plays for the pink team. Nuts, man."

It's beginning to boil, that feeling - the one that commanded him to be reckless.

"You're one to talk _Nicholas_."

"Me? I guess you could say I'm a little yellow - more neutral. But pink ain't my color, big boy. I still like fucking my wife. But sometimes she nags so god damn much, the thought of having the same mouth that just griped for a fucking half hour about taking the trash out wrapped around my dick, drives me up a tree. Plus I think I tapped into a well source of the best head I could ever dream of with Kurt. The guy is fucking _amazing_. And the noises he makes - shit I get hard just thinking about it."

Dave feels himself starting to shake, the anger becoming too much. He orders a shot just for something to do besides punch Nick's pearly teeth down his throat.

"Make it two, Ian. Thanks."

"So you and what's his name - Chandler? He's a nice little piece of twink pie if I've ever seen any. Bit of a talker, but that shouldn't matter when you have his face plowed into the mattress."

"He's a nice guy," is all Dave can manage.

"Nice? Whatever, dude. I'm not looking for a guy to bake me cookies. I'd rather hear him beg for my cock."

Dave is just slamming down his second shot when Kurt and Chandler return, giggling like school girls.

"And what shall I get for you two ladies?" Nick poses silkily, as if he hadn't just been talking about Kurt like a fucking used up, sex object.

Kurt's giggles subside as he feigns deep thought. "I'm thinking a shot looks good. Chandler?"

"Sure. Would a Patron be in order?"

"I think so," Kurt accedes. He smiles up at Nick, who winks and orders the two shots.

"So what were you two talking about?"

"Not much," Nick answers smoothly. "Just reminiscing about our football glory days. How the Tank here used to practically own the field."

"The Tank?" Kurt asks, obvious amusement laced with the equally evident curiousity in his words.

"Hell yeah! Dave used to destroy dudes. Knock em' over like dominoes."

Dave shoots Kurt a look, the statement reminding him of their own complicated history, pushing, hurting, destroying... He knows Kurt thinks of it too.

To his credit, Kurt merely smiles.

"That's impressive David."

"Very. Not that I know much about football, but I always get a bit hot around the collar thinking of sweaty men barreling over each other like musclely tractors," Chandler adds.

"Yeah. You guys really do like your football player types don't you," Nick comments, nuzzling Kurt's neck while the other man squeals and pretends to bat him away.

God - Dave can't do this - The buzz is overtaking his senses along with every emotion that he's been swallowing down for the past few hours. If he doesn't do something he's going to seriously murder Nick. End of story.

Kurt notices Dave's dead pan look.

"David, are you - where are you going?"

Dave ignores him. He has to do this. That - or he's ripping Nick a new asshole.

"Alright and that was Jimmy Haas, with a lovely rendition of _Stand By Your Man_. And next - Oh, why hello there honey. What can I do for you?"

Minnie Monumentous leans in as Dave whispers in her ear. She beams, and then steps aside to put in Dave's request to the DJ. Dave is standing on stage, his back turned toward the audience, waiting.

"Alright we have a new comer with us here tonight, singing a classic tune that we all secretly have in our ipods somewhere - whether we want to admit it or not. Please welcome to the stage, Mr. Yogi bear."

The guitar cue's up, strumming soundly as Dave feels that foolhardiness surge through him, gripping the microphone like a life line...

"He isn't - " Kurt uttered.

"I think he is - " Chandler affirms.

"Shit dude. This is gonna be fucking hilarious," Nick says while shaking his head.

_Yeah..._

"Oh sweet Gaga - " Kurt breathes as he plunks onto a stool, eyes unwavering as they observe Dave in disbelief.

_You are my fire_  
_The one desire_  
_Believe when I say_  
_I want it that way_

And Dave turns around, singing with earnestness as his eyes find Kurt.

_But we are two worlds apart_  
_Can't reach to your heart_  
_When you say_  
_That I want it that way_

**_Tell me why_  
_Ain't nothin' but a heartache_  
_Tell me why_  
_Ain't nothin' but a mistake_  
_Tell me why_  
_I never wanna hear you say_  
_I want it that way_**

The audience is wolf whistling, nearly everybody in the place staring at Dave with fiery enthusiasm, clapping and shouting appraisal. Dave's feeling it. He starts to step forward moving his free hand dramatically in time with the words. **_  
_**

_Am I your fire_  
_Your one desire_  
_Yes I know it's too late_  
_But I want it that way_

_**Tell me why**_  
_**Ain't nothin' but a heartache**_  
_**Tell me why**_  
_**Ain't nothin' but a mistake**_  
_**Tell me why**_  
_**I never wanna hear you say**_  
_**I want it that way**_

He jumps off the stage, the crowd whooping, some guys even singing along. He walks over to a leering drag queen and starts belting out the next verse while reaching toward her.

_Now I can see that we're falling apart_  
_From the way that it used to be, yeah_

He kneels down in front of her, smiling as she strokes his cheek while fanning herself off.

_No matter the distance_  
_I want you to know_  
_That deep down inside of me..._

He stands up again shooting her a wink, then moves to another table, practically eye fucking the small party of bears casing him as he saunters past, his eyes finally seeking out familiar blue orbs...

_You are my fire_  
_The one desire_  
_You are_  
_You are, you are, you are_

Kurt's mouth is agape, his hand clutching his shirt just over his heart. Dave is closing the gap between them, walking past various tables and ogling patrons with a steadfast urgency.

_Don't wanna hear you_  
_Ain't nothin' but a heartache_  
_Ain't nothin' but a mistake_  
_I never wanna hear you say_  
_Oh Yeah_  
_I want it that way_

His eyes are boring into Kurt's, while Chandler is nearly biting his straw in half, pulling at his collar as if releasing an actual build up of steam. Nick no longer looks amused as he glares daggers at Dave._  
_

_**Tell me why**_  
_**Ain't nothin' but a heartache**_  
_**Tell me why**_  
_**Ain't nothin but a mistake**_  
_**Tell me why**_  
_**I never wanna hear you say**_  
_**I want it that way**_

Dave is slowly approaching the trio, his head tilted slightly as he stalks forward.

**_Tell me why_**  
**_Ain't nothin' but a heartache_**  
**_Ain't nothin' but a mistake_**  
**_Tell me why_**  
**_I never wanna hear you say_**  
**_I want it that way_**

_'Cause I want it that way..._

And as he breathes out the last note, he feels himself be yanked forward by a pair of smaller hands and then lips firmly press against his.

Chandler pulls back with a loud smack, making serious bedroom eyes at Dave.

"I think I'm in love with you."

Dave chortles but doesn't get to say much else before he feels a stinging slap on his ass.

"Yogi, you can be my bear anytime sweetie," the drag queen he'd hammed it up for professes with a wink. She slips him a card from in between her bogus, but still sort of enticing cleavage, and melts back into the crowd.

"Hey man, I owe you a drink. Hands down the best performance of the night."

Dave vaguely recognizes the trucker dude that had sang earlier. The guy slaps him a high five and orders their group a round of shots. Finally after the random shouts of congratulations and ass slaps die down, Kurt pulls up a stool next to Dave.

"Well, well, Mr. Karofsky. Maybe you should've been in glee club after all. I never you knew you could sing like that."

"Dude. That was seriously - like the gayest thing I've seen - probably ever," Nick interrupts, laughing as he takes a swig of his beer. Dave doesn't miss Kurt's scathing glare that's quickly fired at Nick as the idiot obliviously continues chuckling to himself.

"Or more like the hottest," Chandler exclaims. "Did you not see the same thing we saw? Holy mother of pearls and rubies! Who knew that such a seemingly shy little bear could channel such eloquence, such burning passionate stage presence... Just - God - Have my babies!"

Dave actually feels better. Or less likely to pulverize the fucking stupid tie suited douche for the moment. After throwing down another shot, it's now official - he's drunk as shit... the fact that he just sang a god damn Backstreet Boys song at the top of his lungs, in a really really gay bar, basically while eye boning his former high school crush who was a proud owner of a dick was starting to slip into the rearview of sane, coherent thought, and leave him stranded in the tiny village of, 'don't give a fuck's-ville.'

It was a quaint little unapologetic town that tended to occupy his psyche when he was terribly wasted. It was familiar, and comfortable and wait - was Chandler still talking?

"-mazing. Truly, a dynamo."

"Fuck Chandler. Why don't you just save the niceties and blow the dude right here."

"Nicholas!" Kurt reprimanded.

"What? I'm just saying - you might as well quit blowing the dude's ego up and just _blow_ him."

"Not that I wouldn't love the prospect but I'd like to leave at least _some _things to the imagination."

"You two do realize he is actually sitting right here, right?"

"S'fine, Kurt -" Dave shrugs.

"No it isn't. It's incredibly rude -"

"Jesus, don't get your panties in a wad babe. Dave's a big boy. He can handle a fucking joke. Right Tank?"

Dave peers over at Nick, a mocking sneer spreading slowly over his face. The straw on the camel's back is splintering...

"Jokes're good. The best ones though - I mean my favorites - Are the ones where you realize the supposedly suave, ex-quarterback who used to give everybody shit about dick lickin', is a total asshole - who actually likes buryin' his _own_ dick - in other guys assholes. Fuckin' ironic and hilaaarious."

"Fuck is your problem Karofsky?"

"Me? Nothin', man," Dave slurs. " 'Cept for like - your face, or somethin'. It's like - makin' me want to drown myself in that guy's armpit sweat," he states nonchalantly as he nods over to a bald biker clad from head to toe in leather.

"Funny, man. Really. I didn't know that you were a fuckin' comedian too. What other surprises do you have up your sleeve, _Dave_? You gonna start tap dancin'? You gonna go find a phone booth and come back with your fuckin' super hero cape on as an encore?"

"Nick, please, stop -"

"No! This fucker's obviously got somethin' to say. I just want to help him get it off his chest -" and Nick jabs Dave hard in the chest with his pointer finger. Dave is pretty sure it was hard enough to leave a bruise.

Kurt is pulling at Nick, but his eyes are glued to Dave.

Dave feels it, knows that Kurt is pleading with him without words; communicating his desparation for Dave not to react.

Dave is biting his lip, willing the absolute boiling, writhing anger to be kept at bay - if anything because Kurt's pitiful look is paining him to the point of surrender. God, how he _hated_ that look.

"You know, Nick, I guess - I guess I'm secretly a magician too, 'cause I know when it's time to disappear. It was lovely catchin' up. We should do it again some time. Chandler, it was nice meetin' ya."

"Nice meeting you too, Dave," Chandler barely whispers back, his face contorted in a sad grimace.

Dave closes his tab, leaving Ian a generous tip, and turns back around to address the three men. A small crowd has begun to gather in response to Nick's ranting.

"And Chandler you were right - there are some things that should be left to the imagination. There's nothin' wrong with that, so don't let anybody tell ya different dude... 'cause you're a nice guy, and you should be treated with the respect you deserve."

Chandler is nodding, his eyes gleaming behind his thick glasses. Dave can't help when his eye's dart over to Kurt, those words lingering in the air... the words that are truthfully just as much meant for Kurt's ears, if not more so.

Dave only makes it a few feet into the parking lot before he hears his voice ring out into the night.

"David! David!"

He stumbles as he turns around, trying to focus his bleary eyes on the approaching figure.

"What d'ya want Kurt?"

"I hope you don't plan on driving?"

"What does it matter?"

"Wha - What the hell are you talking about? Of course it matters. You're not driving, so give me your keys."

"Don't think I can do that -"

"David. Give. Me. Your keys. Now!"

"You want em', there they go -" And Dave throws them out into the field on the outskirts of the parking lot. "Get em' if you want em'."

"What the fuck is your problem? What is _wrong_ with you?"

"You know - I'm walkin', so don't worry about anything. Have fun with Nick the dick."

"Is that what this is about? _Nick_?"

"It doesn't matter - just, make sure Chandler gets home okay - I'll see ya 'round Kurt."

"No. You're not getting off that easy. We are having this discussion," Kurt shouts while getting in front of Dave, stopping him in his tracks. "Talk to me, David. Don't just run off."

This was fucking familiar. Even after all of these years. The way Kurt is mere inches from his face, breathing heavily, red faced and so vulnerable. Last time this happened, Dave had kissed the shit out of him and completely changed the course of their relationship...

"You didn't even ask me. Ya know that?"

"Ask you what David - what?"

"D'ya think I'm some kinda, sad, gay charity case or somethin'?"

"What're you - I don't -"

"Chandler, Kurt! I get it man. You thought, oh look, I have a closet case friend who needs some coaxin' out of his closet, maybe my little annoyin' twink friend can blow job him outta there to never return again -"

"That is _not_ what I was thinking. At_ all _-"

"Whatever Kurt! You're so fuckin' - God -"

"What? I'm so fucking - what?"

"Naive. You're so fuckin' naive. You don't think that what you did tonight - you don't think that hurt me?"

"What the hell did I do, David?"

"You - " _Made me watch you be with someone else..._

"What?" Kurt prompts irritably.

"You think so little of me, that you set me up on some random gay excursion and don't even tell me about it - don't even give me the choice to have a say. And don't get me started on the suited douche -"

"And now it comes around to that - to him, right?"

"How could you be with _him_? Seriously -"

"And how is that any of your business?"

Dave runs his hand through his hair, his eyes drifting away from Kurt while he took a second to compose himself. His hazel eyes return to bore holes into Kurt who's still waiting, his gaze equally piercing.

"He was the hugest asshole that existed at Carmel. He made other kids hate themselves -"

"Now isn't that the pot calling the kettle black."

Dave felt his heart stutter.

"I thought you said you forgave me?" He mutters darkly. "Thought you wanted to be _friends_, Hummel?"

"I did - And I do -"

"Right. Well speakin' as your _friend_, you're fuckin' a married guy who brings douchery to the height of a different fuckin' quasar. And yeah - I was an asshole - 'cause I was terrified. I never took pleasure in bein' mean or hurtful. Especially to you. And I hated myself for a _long_ time 'cause that wasn't really me, and I was so fuckin' sorry for what I did."

Kurt took a step back, his eyes less fierce.

"How do you know Nick wasn't just as scared as you?"

"I dunno - 'cause I have eyes?" Dave retorts sarcastically. "That fucker's the same using fuckwad he was then, and you can do way fuckin' better than that - you deserve better -"

"Who are you to tell me what I deserve or don't deserve? We barely know each other David. Outside of those dumpster dives and the hate kiss of the century, we were barely friends even then."

"True. So how is it, that in our crazy, short lived, literally painful history, I figured out how great you are before you have?"

Kurt grows quiet, stepping back another foot, the air between them so thick, it feels stifling. Eventually he speaks.

"Like I said - who I _fuck_, is none of your business, David."

Dave nods his head, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"Kurt! Are you comin' or what?"

Speaking of King douche himself... Dave sneers at the sight of him standing just outside the bar entrance, waiting for Kurt to come to him like a fucking dog. Kurt is biting his lip, looking torn, but soon he yells back, "I'm coming - Just give me a minute!"

"You're right Kurt. It ain't my business." Dave abruptly turns on his heel to leave. "G'night."

"Dave!"

"Good night!" And Dave stalks off, not exactly sure where he's going, but knowing he didn't have the strength to stand there another second.

* * *

He was sitting. He had forgotten where exactly. Right - he was at a bus stop.

He had walked for probably miles. Stumbling along the highway, stopping occasionally to kick or throw random pieces of rubbish that had long since been abandoned on the side of the road.

He was slumped forward, cradling his head in his hands; trying desperately to erase this night from his memory. Unfortunately he had sobered up quite a bit during his walk, and now it was just as fresh as if it had only happened mere minutes before as opposed to hours ago.

God, the tricks the universe could play on a guy...

Nick fucking Harris. The bane of his senior year experience. Hateful, and ass-tastic as ever before... being _gay_... Or whatever - bi-sexual or some shit... Not only just that - but the clown was _fucking_ Kurt, of all people.

Dave just couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it. Not in a million years would tonight's events have ever crossed his mind outside of some terrible nightmarish day dream or some crazy, sleep deprived work of fiction or something.

This situation was like - far beyond the worse case scenario. It was like the devil had single handedly written this out in his basement over a cup of cold coffee, laughing the entire time at his own devilry just to spite Dave.

He was brought out of his musings by the sound of a car horn blaring too loudly, causing him to jump slightly.

"What the fuck is your... problem," he trailed off, perplexed at what he was seeing.

"I doubt there's any buses coming at this hour Yogi. And watch your tone."

"What're you doin' in my car?"

Ian rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Definitely not taking it for a joy ride. _Nothing_ about riding in this heap is joyous. I'm obviously picking you up cave man."

"W-what?"

"I was really hoping you weren't just another stereotypical brainless jock homo bear. With responses like that - you're not doing much to make me a believer."

Dave stands, still uncertain if he's experiencing a drunken hallucination.

"How d'you know where I'd be?"

"A homo tracking device - who the hell cares? I found you, I have your car, and your coming with me to my place to sleep it off."

Dave glowers in Ian's direction.

"Oh come on! You don't think_ I'm _really going to overpower _you_, do you? I know I make very blatant and physically arousing sexual comments toward you, but I do that with everybody. You're not that special. Now either get in the car, or I'm gonna leave your ass at this sad little bus stop in the middle of nowhere. And trust me, nobody else is coming this way unless they're hooking or a cop. Or a hooker trying to catch a crooked cop. Damn - try saying that five times fast."

Dave hesitates, running his hand through his hair as if waiting for someone else to suddenly pull up and offer him a ride instead.

"I haven't drank anything. I never do when I'm working. Scouts honor."

Dave quirks his eyebrow at that remark. _Boy Scouts_... That's believable... If they specialized in creating a prom dress line and doing mock trials of America's Next Top Model.

"What? Where do you think this whole gay thing started for me? It wasn't through putting on my Step Mom's make up. It was sleeping in close quarters under the stars with other penises. Now bring your ass, Yogi."

When he realizes another ride isn't happening, he exhales defeatedly, but accepting of his fate, and treds toward his Tercel.

"I've never seen this side of you Ian. You're kind of a bitch. I think I sort of like it."

"Most men usually do. They just don't want to admit it until I have them tied up."

"Sounds fun."

"Good. I have my S n' M kit ready for us when we get home."

Dave scowls over at him.

"Kidding."

Suprisingly Ian doesn't make attempts to talk to him. In fact he turns on the radio, a soft rock station, which has Dave shooting him curious looks; Ian then retorting with a - "What? My Dad was a huge Kansas fan," - resulting in Dave chuckling and settling himself in for the ride, for some reason more at ease then he'd anticipated being in Ian's company.

When they arrive at Ian's place, a quaint but homey one bedroom apartment (Dave had secretly been expecting rainbow drapes and glittered lampshades - not simple, solid, neutral colors and rather standard furniture pieces), Ian wastes no time as he grabs some spare blankets and a pillow, tossing them to Dave and nodding his head toward the couch.

"It's lumpy and used up - I do actually have an S n' M kit I've gotten plenty of use out of on that couch - but if you don't mind strange, unidentifiable cum stains, it's cozy enough."

Dave cringed, giving the couch a thorough once over. It looked pretty faultless if maybe a bit worn, but he couldn't help but wonder...

"Oh just lay your ass down, Yogi. Good night."

"Night. Oh - and Ian?"

The blond turns around, looking speculative.

"Thanks."

He flashes Dave a grin, seeping with what looked suspiciously like sympathy.

"No problem, Yogi. Sleep well," and he disappears down the hall and inside of his bedroom.

Dave would have to remember to give Ian a bigger tip next time around.

* * *

**A/N**: And just to clarify in case there was any confusion, the Nick in this story is not the Dalton Academy Nick (which was actually the character I used very briefly in my fic _Crazy Hearts_), but the Nick who **(Spoiler alert)** outted Dave in Season 3. Again their history isn't the same in this story as the show but as you read in this chap, Dave did get to witness Nick's bitch ass-ness though it was never directed at Dave. Dayum... This chap was looong. Thanks for sticking it out good people. This was a marathon chappy I hope you enjoyed cause I worked hard on it.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** This was a quick, much much shorter chap that just kinda came to me. I'm seriously letting the story guide me along which is sort of fun in the sense that I'm feeling just as surprised by what's coming next as you guys. The next chap may be a bit meatier but hopefully this one will suffice for now. Enjoy and please leave me some comments, questions or reviews. It honestly gives me the motivation to trudge forward knowing people are interested or actually digging the story, so please don't be shy. Thank you kindly!

* * *

For a moment he'd forgotten where he was. He awoke feeling drained; emotionally, and also physically considering the monsterous headache slowly coursing behind his eyes, pulsing and sharp.

He groans his way into a sitting position, beams of light leaking through the blinds and pooling near his feet.

He's starting to remember...

The moment when several aspirin are held out in front of him, accompanied by a glass of water; the sight of a cheeky grin underneath messy blonde hair that was usually styled to perfection in his line of sight... It begins coming back to him. The events of the night flashing through his mind...

Nick, the pompous king of all that is douche, regaling his gay affair with such unrelenting pride, reminding Dave of everything he'd ever hated about high school and himself in one fell swoop...

Chandler, the petite little twink with the annoying laugh, talking excessively about useless old hollywood trivia, crushing his lips to Dave's...

Kurt... God - Kurt... They'd fought, argued about - well, something - and Dave had walked off like a petulant spoiled little prick...

"I know that look. I take it that it's all coming back to you?"

"Unfortunately. Thanks," Dave grunts in response while knocking back the pills, gulping down a generous amount of water to rehydrate himself.

Ian sits on the arm of the sofa with his eyes carefully gauging Dave's slouched frame.

"It wasn't all that bad Yogi."

"Oh, yeah? Tell that to my head. Feels like I just got into a brawl with an ornery meat cleaver and lost - And damn it! Why do my feet feel like I went on a fucking pilgrimage across the county?"

"Because you _actually_ went on a pilgrimage across the county. Well, at least half way."

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose. The aspirin was moving way too slow for his liking.

"So I walked - a lot. And how did I get here again?"

"With my fag space shuttle. I beamed you up and dropped you off here at my humble abode to ravage you in your helpless drunken state."

Dave looks up, his glare penetrating the weak grin arranged wholly across Ian's lips. Ian rolls his eyes and then returns a scowl of his own, not to be deterred by the most intimidating of dagger eyes shot his way.

"I picked you up in your car. I usually hitch a ride or grab a cab so really, you were doing me a favor."

Right. He knows his emotions must've been running high for him to forget how he'd managed to end up here at Ian's place. The walking had aided him in slightly sobering, but once he'd stopped walking, the drunken-ness returned nearly ten fold.

"I just - I remember bits and pieces. I remember Chandler and him rattling on about Dorothy Dandridge or Jean Autry or some silver screen historical crap I could've cared less about, and I think - I think I like - got smacked in the ass a lot."

"By some choice queen's if I do say so myself."

Dave stared ahead, unfocused on his actual surroundings; his mind too preoccupied with recounting the hazy details of his evening. His senses working over time to reclaim the blurred images and snippets of interaction.

"Kurt and I, we were talking. A lot at first. Something stupid about the Terminator being made into a musical and how he wanted to be Sarah Conner or whatever nonsense it was."

Dave chuckled to himself while carding his hand through his hair.

"I got pissed. I mean like, royally pissed off. Man... fucking Nick Harris."

"So you did really know him from before?"

Dave nodded. "My senior year of high school, yeah."

And then it grips him like cog wheels crushing together, squeezing the thoughts out like an old tube of tooth paste.

The spot where he'd been poked in the chest, the soreness suddenly flaring up as if in tune with his dawning realization: the angry cursing, Kurt's pleading eyes, arguing with him about being a treated like a charity case, arguing about Nick... And Dave fleeing, running away as he always does.

"Fuck, Ian. I think I fucked up."

Ian reaches out and pats Dave's shoulder comfortingly. "No you didn't. You just let your emotions get the best of you. It happens Yogi -"

"Yeah - But it wasn't supposed to happen that way. I'm not supposed to be that guy anymore."

"What guy?"

"The guy who hurts him. Not anymore."

"Sweetie. Sometimes shit happens. I mean - whatever it was, it isn't today. Today is always an opportunity for something new - for a change."

Dave sighs, some of the tension dispersing from his body at the words. He feels a slight tug pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Get that one from a popsicle stick?"

Ian shrugs with feigned innocence. "From a Snapple cap."

"Figures. Look, Kurt and I - It's a long story. But to sum it up, there was a time that I went out of my way to make his life hell. I pushed him around, taunted him, shit I even threatened to kill him once. How depraved is that? Some selfish, closeted bastard too cowardly to be honest with himself, so he takes it out on the one guy who's brave enough to not care - to just be himself. I mean, I was absolutely fucking awful to him. He even transferred schools for a bit because of me."

"I see. You were _that_ guy."

Dave nods slowly, his heart heavy.

He was the same exact dude that he accused Nick of being. His anger is no longer justified in his mind, not when his sobriety was there to relinquish the veil and reveal the true feeling underlying the stupid, massive rage... It was actually guilt and sadness at recognizing that he was the Nick of Kurt's past. The same exact Nick who was now with Kurt, or rather using him.

Ian pauses for a moment, sinking closer to Dave on the couch, his hand falling away as he peers over at him.

"When I said I never drink when I'm working, it's more like I just never drink. I'm actually two years sober."

Dave looks over at Ian for the first time since he's seated himself on the couch.

"How is it that you work at a bar? I mean - I'd imagine it's hard, ya know, temptation and all."

Ian chuckles softly, his shoulders slumping. "I feel at home there. Like not even addiction can get a hold of me when I'm at Scandals. It sort of quells the impulse to engage weirdly enough. It's like the more I spend time doling it out to other people, the less I want it for myself. I dunno - it's hard to put into words I guess."

"I think I know what you mean," Dave conceded quietly.

Ian smiles tentatively, his thin smirk cocking to the side. "We've all got pasts Yogi. It took me a while to figure out how to stop running and embrace mine. It's hard. Everyday. But each day is full of chances for better." Ian pauses briefly, exhales, then states "You like him. Right?"

Dave feels his heart hammering in quick succession. They both know exactly the _him_ he's referring to, but neither man acknowledges it out loud.

The words are lingering on the tip of Dave's tongue, but he can't bring himself to let them slide free and escape into the atmosphere, left bare to be judged and potentially ridiculed by Ian. He ducks his head. His hazel eyes growing warm.

"You know, I didn't just magically detect your hour of need on some random whim, Yogi. How do you think I ended up with your car keys?"

Everything that wasn't said before that moment, is plainly divulged within that single, rather simplistic statement. There was only one person who would've known where to find his keys... Only one person who would've taken the time to prompt Ian's little rescue mission...

And Dave feels whole again. The burgeoning guilt easing, receding back into the recesses of his heart where his past mistakes dwell. He smiles up at Ian knowing that his sudden display of toothiness would easily indicate the truth to Ian - that yeah - he really, _really_ likes Kurt. Despite Nick, and despite their complicated past. He likes him, plain and simple. And no amount of time, nor adventures with a sham marriage, or lack of a formal friendship would dispel that knowledge.

Ian is beaming at him fully now, a hint of a jeering sensibility entwined within the gesture.

"So, Backstreet Boys huh?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Maybe that one's better left in the dark."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** This one came to me as soon as I woke up, and I had to write it before pushing off to work. Another shorty, but I hope goody. Be prepared for once again an encounter of the random sort with another OC. Well random, but purposeful for Dave. Thank you so much to all of you for your comments and reviews. Please keep em' coming my way.

* * *

The call came a few days later.

_"Hello, am I speaking with a Mr. David Michael Karofsky?"_

_"Depends. Are you selling anything?"_

_"No sir - "_

_"Are you looking to buy something?"_

_"Um - No -"_

_"Are you seeking me for some past magazine subscription I ordered in college as a joke and completely forgot about?"_

_"No, Mr. Karofsky. None of those things. I'm an attorney. My name is Peter Mulligan. I'm representing your wife for the divorce proceedings."_

_"Oh - Right. So what do I owe the pleasure Mulligan? Awesome name by the way - like an ambitious, sea-worthy pirate."_

_"Thanks, I guess. But I'm actually calling to determine the final meeting place to sign the paperwork. You know, to finalize everything and make the divorce official."_

_..._

_"Mr. Karofsky?"_

_"Yeah, sorry. Sure. Is she opposed to - um - meeting out here in Lima? I don't like to go too far since I'm usually shuttling my sister around so..."_

_"Oh, I don't I think that will be a problem. She made it clear that whatever location would be acceptable in order to get everything done."_

_..._

_"Cool. Well, I have a place in mind. I can give you the address..."_

He felt like he was sort of tainting it with his own bull shit - this place that had so far served as a monument to finding happier moments between the plethora of tween-aged angst, homo denial and an early on-set of a mid-life crisis.

Dave was sitting across from the pair, calmly shoveling a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He had ordered a cup of the animal cookie flavor - which actually was in fact, pretty good. He couldn't help but smile around the spoon, feeling that his choice to order that particular flavor was maybe his subconcious mind attempting to produce a sense of memorable comfort to be able to get through this shit... To draw strength from the imaginings of his sister sitting next to him, threatening to shoot a piece of cookie at his face if he didn't suck it up...

Lisa looked anything but casual, dressed in a dark gray form fitting blazer settled over a deep purple blouse, a pencil skirt hugging her thin hips. The leather strap of her Dooney and Burke bag clutched tightly in her hand, as if she was truly contemplating the option of either swinging it at him or making a sudden and very hurried escape.

Dave thinks he recalls actually buying that fucking bag. Not even for a special occasion. Just some random attempt to reassure his wife that his drinking and their having sex soon after was merely coincidental. That maybe the latest fashionable bag could distract her enough to make her stop questioning; the glow of her co-workers insatiable jealousy soaking her in denial, and restoring her sense of fully and completely being loved and dobted upon by her husband. Material things, serving to negate her inevitable fears... If only for a while longer.

"So, Mr. Karofsky, if we could proceed with the - "

"Dave. Call me Dave. And you guys should seriously try this. The animal cookie just does things to you."

Lisa, her newly acquired bobbed haircut and honey highlights shining under the beaming flourescent lighting, huffs, and shoots him a look of clear contempt.

"Can we just - please - move on? I have to be getting back."

Dave shrugs while Mr. Mulligan clears his throat to continue.

"So, as I was saying before, you've both agreed upon - despite signing a prenuptual agreement, to settle with relinquishing certain properties and shared convect - "

"I love this. Seriously - Lis, you gotta try this," He remarks jovially, holding out a spoonful for her to take.

"Are you being serious right now? It's bad enough you decide to do this_ here _of all places, but now you keep prolonging this just to ask me if I want to have some of your _fucking _ice cream, David?"

Dave slumps back in the booth, slowly slipping the spoon into his own mouth instead.

"Just thought I'd ask. Despite the situation, good is good."

"Whatever. Let him finish. Sign the papers. And let's end it already - "

"How have you been? I haven't been able to get a hold of you so, I was wondering."

Lisa is seething, her already poised figure somehow managing to become that much more rigid.

"Who cares? Shut up so we can - "

"I do. I'm asking because I actually do."

Her brown eyes are suspiscious, trying to decipher whether the question was some sort of cryptic plan of attack - he knows this, but the glare is noticably less heated now, decreasing in its initially scorching intensity.

"I've been fine. I just finished my online Masters program. And I - I'm dating again."

"Oh. That's good. Anyone I know?"

"Dave, wha -"

"Just genuinely curious. Trust me."

"If I answer can we move on?"

Dave nods, his teeth scraping against the plastic spoon as he casually takes another bite.

"Anthony. You know, from my work."

"Right. The guy with the dimple in his chin and the sort of light green eyes, pretty good taste in suits?"

Lisa nodded with a soft smile. "Yeah. Exactly. We've - um - we've been dating for a bit now."

Dave's grin spreads, the spoon twiddling absent mindedly between his forefinger and thumb.

"Nice guy. I mean - he always seemed pretty nice."

"He is. I really like him."

"I'm glad. Honestly."

Mr. Mulligan had remained quiet, his eyes volleying between the two during the exchange, waiting for the proper moment to try to interrupt and steer them back on track.

"Um - alright then, so are we able to continue or should I - "

"And you?" She asks, effectively cutting the lawyer off. Mr. Mulligan leans back awkwardly, looking as if he it was paining him to not roll his eyes at this random act of disclosure.

"Nah. Not really."

Lisa shoots him a sad smile. "Oh. That's too bad. I'm sure it'll turn around eventually."

"Maybe."

Lisa is staring at him openly. Her dark eyes suddenly moistening exceptionally. Dave is a bit taken aback by the drastic change in her expression. Like a powerful dam slowly cracking, the cement breaking away. She opens her mouth to speak, struggling for a moment as it opens and closes. Finally as several tears glide down her face, the words are dispensed, stuttered out quietly.

"I - I - I was with him. I was with Anthony - while we were - still... still together."

Dave swallows, the spoon falling precariously into the cup.

"Um - Mrs. Karofsky - I mean Ms. Sterling, you may want to hold off on - "

"I just - I guess, I got tired of pretending. And I just needed to feel - I don't know... wanted. Like someone really _wanted_ me. You know?"

Dave is finding it hard to look at her, but he keeps his eyes steady, listening carefully while biting his lip to keep from bursting.

"I know you loved me David. I know that you wanted to love me. But I think we both knew that it wasn't real. That what I needed from you and what you tried to give, wasn't real - was it?"

His eyes drift toward the table then, the tears building. He can't seem to speak... His mouth is so dry, the words feel stuck...

"I - um - I - I, knew. I knew - about you two. Least I figured as much."

Lisa's bottom lip trembles, the tears cascading over the rubied flesh with abandon. Her wet eyes staring unabashedly at Dave.

"You knew?"

He nods succinctly. "Yeah. But how could I - I can't be mad at you about that Lis. Okay? I'm not. I have no right - "

"Yeah you do. Neither of us were perfect in this Dave. I realize that now. That as much as I want to blame you for everything - It wasn't all you. Not all of it anyway."

Dave sighs heavily, the warmth behind his eyes spilling over. Lisa smiles through her tears. It's tired but genuine.

"I know that I can be a bitch. I mean - I knew your Grandmother Mary always _hated_ me."

They share a laugh at that. He couldn't argue that one.

"Not to mention me being pushy, and over-bearing, and hormonally prone to moodiness that I always seemed to unfairly project onto you. Even if things - you know - weren't the way they were - we still never would've worked. Not in the end."

_'Even if things weren't the way they were.'_

He knows the statement was actually code for, 'if he wasn't as gay as a bag of rainbows tied neatly to the the back of a unicorn flying through neon, skittle colored clouds.'

She still couldn't say it. But he knew that she was no longer pretending.

"I'm sorry," is all he can manage. He hopes that it can reach her. That those two seemingly insignificant words can reach her heart and truly capture every ounce of painful regret he'd ever caused her.

"Ditto," she affirmed.

Dave can't help but chuckle at the admission. "What are we in that movie 'Ghost'? You're not gonna break out the _Unchained Melody_, on your phone are you?"

"No. But I might pull out the pottery wheel I secretly carry in my purse and whip up a stylish but useless vase."

And in that moment, Dave remembers exactly why he grew to care about Lisa in the first place.

"Touche Ms. Sterling. Touche."

Lisa wipes her eyes and seems to relax, her shoulders sagging slightly, said purse sliding off her shoulder into the booth seat as if she was relinquishing her armor from a horrendously tiring battle.

"So, shall we?" She poses.

"Let's get 'er done."

"And actually - I do want some - I was just trying to avoid the calories," She related as her eyes hover on the ice cream cup left abandoned in front of him. He nods his assent as she dips the spoon further into the smooth substance and daintily slips a bite into her mouth. He smiles at the memory that emerges in his mind. The image of a certain pale, beautifully blue eyed man, making a very similar remark over a cup of the same flavor not long ago.

"You sound just like somebody else I know."

"Somebody with good sense I take it?"

"Somebody with _great_ sense."

_Except for when it came to the ways of the heart anyway_, he thinks to himself. Not like he could talk... But still.

They grow quiet, settling into a comfortable silence.

"Sign. Just - Please, sign."

Damn. He'd completely forgotten about pirate lawyer, who looked more than a bit exasperated at the moment, his chin resting in his up-turned palm as he leaned on the table.

"Definitely. As soon as you take a bite of this, I'd be happy to Mr. Mulligan," Lisa voices airily as she holds out the spoon with a nice chunk of cookie sitting atop the scooped mound.

Dave shakes his head, feeling oddly lighter. He shrugs as Mr. Mulligan shoots him an incredulous look.

"You heard the lady. And she can be a hormonal, griping bitch - so I'd listen to her."

* * *

**A/N:** Weird. It started out with me intending to make Lisa be a raging bitch but in the end, it ended up like this. I guess I like the idea that Dave got to absolve some of his guilt with their failed marriage and that Lisa is sort of getting to a better place which hopefully will inspire Dave to do so too. Meh, what can you do? The story wants what it wants. I just follow along with a trail of words in my wake.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** This chap I think has been the shortest thus far. I'm looking at this one as more of a set up for the next one and I also was just missing the Dave/Danny dynamic. I like writing them. I'm a sucker for genuine sibling love disguised by ruthless banter and snarkiness. Originally I was gonna combine this chap with the next one but I'm honestly tired and I want to be able to put out my best for the next one which hopefully (if the story goes where I think it's going) will have some interesting little incidents that go down. As always, thanks for reading and a special thanks to those who have been reviewing. You guys are helping make this story happen, seriously. My happiness at your words and encouragement knows no bounds.

**Disclaimer:** And I completely forgot to say that I own nothing regarding all the products, songs, etc, I mentioned last chap (i.e. Dooney and Burke bag, Unchained Melody, etc, etc). I don't think I mentioned anything that needs to be disclaimed upon within this chap, but just in case nothing referred to is mine except the actual story plot and dialogue, blah, blah, blah, you know what I mean.

* * *

Dave was staring out the front window, his eyes drifting over droves of pre-teens as they meandered about, hopping into awaiting vehicles, horse playing, shouting, texting, and walking in small cliques to where-ever their respective destinations were.

He smiles to himself, his mind lost in past memories of what life felt like at that age; to be united with the vast majority by hormonal agitation, social confusion, and an unyielding desire to belong...

Welcome to the beginning of exactly what it still feels like as an adult, he thinks slyly.

The sound of the door being flung open and his sister settling in the passenger seat quells his deep introspection.

"Hey kid."

"Hey," she greets pleasantly.

Dave starts up the car, but can't help but glance over at his sister again, studying her momentarily. She had a hint of a smile, a sense of subdued, but still present mirth emitting from her. Her hoodie, which seemed to always be up despite the warming weather, was pulled off of her head, and her ever present headphones conspicuously absent.

"What?"

"You seem happy."

"No. Just - I dunno. Something weird sort of happened."

"Weird?"

"Well - yeah."

"Does it involve maxi pads or any other sort of menstrual or contraceptive device?"

Danny's grin widens. "No."

"Okay? So - a good weird, then?"

"I - I - dunno. I guess."

Dave watches her quietly, both hands gripping the steering wheel.

"So..."

"Um - I was walking down the hall coming from the bathroom. There wasn't anybody around since class had already started but - I saw, um - Jamie."

"Hudson?"

"Yeah. Getting something out of her locker. I mean - we saw each other, and I was just gonna walk past her - ya know? How I always do. But then she said 'hi'."

"Huh."

"Yeah - I know. She never says anything to me. Like - _ever_. Weird, right?"

"Hm. So did you say anything back?"

"Well - yeah. I just said 'hi' back. What? - I didn't wanna be rude," she states almost placatingly as she shrugs her shoulders.

"Right. 'Cause rudeness in the hallways of a junior high is completely unheard of and totally blasphemous."

"Whatever."

They fall silent; Danny staring out the passenger side window, Dave giving her side long glances, a sedated grin settled evenly on his face.

"What are you thinking, kid?"

She shrugs again. "Not much. She just said 'hi'. It's whatever."

Dave sighs. He knows that feeling - what she's doing. He's done it over a hundred times himself.

It means something to her, that small gesture from the other girl. But she'd never admit it, because it allows for potential let down... the kind of disappointment you come to associate as inevitable in your life after such well practiced acceptance of it time and time again.

Dave is inspired to steer away from the thoughts he's convinced are likely holding her captive as she stares out the window.

"So, you're looking at an officially free man by the way."

"What do you mean?"

"Lisa and I, well - the divorce was finalized yesterday."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"Cool. Well, not so much if it makes you feel bad. That parts not cool. But, do you feel - I dunno - different?"

He chews his lip as he contemplates that thought. Different...

"I guess. Maybe a little."

"Your ankle probably feels better."

"My what?"

"Your ankle. Now that your ball and chain is gone," she says, an obvious smile in her eyes though her lips remain set in a thin line, shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

"Not your best. But an 'A' for effort, nerd."

"I aim to please."

"Well your aim sucks."

She smacks him on the arm, laughing jovially. "Whatever Beardy Beardington."

As Dave's chuckling subsides, the impending comment reaches his lips.

"I honestly thought you'd be doing somersaults or something at the news."

"We're in a car Dave."

"True. Perhaps some juggling then," he remarks in a mock haughty tone.

Danny rolls her eyes, then looks suddenly pensive, thoughtful.

"I - I, didn't _hate_ Lisa. She just - I dunno - wasn't like - _right_ for you, I guess."

"How do you mean?"

"You just - didn't look like yourself with her. Like you - Like you were just acting happy or something. Plus she was just freakin' bossy."

Dave exhales, his heart swelling unexpectedly, a deep chuckle bursting forth. Then he ruffles her hair affectionately.

"Did I ever tell you how smart you are?"

Danny attempts to brush several stray locks back into place, sparing him a warm glance mingled with feigned annoyance.

"Everyday."

"Well, I apologize kid. 'Cause thats clearly not enough."

She beams and then turns toward the window, staring out in a remarkably resolved manner.

Dave focuses on the road, his mind racing beyond the slow paced trek of his Tercel.

"I've seen people on T.V. have like - divorce parties, or whatever. You could celebrate. You know - like celebrate your freedom."

She's still looking out the window as she says it. He knows she's probably suggesting it out of worry that he might be mopy and secretly depressed about the finality of the split. Sometimes, the kid was too damn perceptive for her own good. Especially as young as she is. But admittedly, something about the idea strikes a chord in him.

The card currently stuffed in his wallet burns to the forefront of his mind. The name of a ridiculously tall, simple, and goofy grinned man printed neatly on it. Perhaps the time to take the dude up on his offer had arrived.

"Yeah. Minus the cake. But - yeah - maybe, kid."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **There is definitely some shit going down in this chap and it's a long one. Oh and just to make sure there's no confusion, the portion of this chap in Italics at the very beginning just means that it already occurred in the past (the first part being a phone conversation) for Dave, in this case just it went down recently, like a few hours before. Alright... 'Nuff said. Enjoy, and please review!

**Warnings:** I felt it was necessary to warn you all about some touchy stuff mentioned or that actually occurs in this chap... mentions of a **violent death, scenes of a graphic nature involving said death and just general violence**. Also course and offensive language, slurs, and bigotry.

**Disclaimer:** I owns nothing, as usual... *sigh*... But for anyone who's familiar with eighties sitcoms you may get a kick out of this one. I don't own any theme songs, TV shows, beer brands, or other stuff related that I discuss, mention, or plain joke about.

* * *

_"Yo, you've got Finn."_

_..._

_"Hello?"_

_"Okay. Now hang up the phone, and maybe this time grown up Finn can answer."_

_"Karofsky?"_

_"Uh huh."_

_"Don't be a dick."_

_"Sort of my nature. You know that."_

_"Too well dude. So what's up?"_

_"Well Hudson, I was wondering if I could steal you away from Dad duty and changing spark plugs or whatever to join me for a drink."_

_"Oh. Alright. Where were you thinking?"_

_"Sca - I mean - somewhere not too far for either of us. Um - maybe the Oxford."_

_"Sure. That place is pretty decent. So, when did you wanna meet up?"_

_"You free tonight?"_

_"I think so. I'll have to check-in with Amy but I'm sure it'll be cool - "_

_"Ah, marriage. The days of having to check-in and get permission. How I don't miss those."_

_..._

_"I'm just joking Hudson."_

_"I - I - know. I just didn't know what to say."_

_"Thought you were the master of small talk now?"_

_"In the shop, sure. But, I - I - kinda feel bad for you - you know - 'bout the marriage thing not working out. I mean it sounds crazy I guess, but I sorta like checking in with Amy. We've both always done that for each other. It's tradition I guess."_

_"That's cool Hudson. To each their own. But don't feel bad for me. Actually that's what this occasion is about - _not_ feeling bad about not working out."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Well, my divorce was finalized the other day."_

_"Oh. Okay."_

_"And I - um - I'd like to celebrate a bit. Give homage to the start of new chapter, you know?"_

_"Cool. I here that. Your first round'll be on me, dude."_

_"If Amy says it's okay..."_

_"Well, yeah - If Amy say's it's cool."_

_"Seriously - grow a pair Hudson."_

_"Hey Amy likes the pair I have -"_

_"Cause she keeps 'em in a jar in her purse and admires them during her lunch breaks."_

_"Probably."_

_"More like definitely."_

_"Whatever dude. This is all coming from the guy who _isn't_ married anymore."_

_"Ouch. Zing, Hudson. So should I call you later sweetie and check-in with you to find out if you can join me on our date?"_

_"Dude. You just sounded like Kurt - weird. And I'll call you later - just don't talk in that voice -"_

_"What voice?"_

_"That one! The one you're doing right now - "_

_"Babydoll, I don't know what you're talking about - "_

_"Dude, okay - I'm gonna go. I'm beyond creeped out right now. We'll talk later."_

_"Toodles."_

_"Er - Bye."_

_As Dave pushes the end button, he breathes out a laugh, thinking of how Finn was still so much the same, at least when it came to being easily flustered._

_Eventually his smile fades as his mind ruminates over their dialogue... zoning in on the idea of the intricacies of marriage: like checking in with each other, bringing home flowers just because... All of the things that slipped away over time because his heart was never truly in it._

_Truth is, he actually understood Finn's point, because he did in fact like the idea of someone caring enough to want him to call, not to keep tabs of course like Lisa tended to do, but because they simply wanted to be around him, to be with him without question._

_That fucking good hearted goofball had actually made him feel a twinge of jealousy at that thought. He definitely was going to owe Dave a beer, or two - at least two._

* * *

Seven hours later, Dave had already slammed down his second beer, courtesy of one, Finn Hudson, both men laughing at the thought of getting your dick caught in your zipper; a very serious subject as far as dude talk was considered.

Finn was turning red, his beer clutched loosely in his hand as he attempted to hiccup himself back under control.

"See - that's why I started keeping my pubes trimmed man. I've had a couple incidents of the zipper catchin' a hair or two. And that shit suuuucks," Dave explains mirthfully.

"Oh yeah - that's happened to me man. Except it was my underwear. Like - it got snagged on the material or something. Totally sucks."

"God bless women, 'cause I don't know how they do it. The eye brow pluckin' and bikini waxin' and all that tortuous shit... Just - bless 'em."

"Amy is sort of like a combination of feminine and like - not so feminine."

"You mean masculine?"

"Well see that's the thing. It's not masculine. Not really."

"You just don't wanna sound gay, Hudson - "

"No! C'mon dude - I'm related to Kurt. I don't care about that kinda stuff. I just mean - that she's like messy, and likes to burp, and loves actions movies - like the gory, no holds bar kind. But at the same time she knows how to throw on the most perfect lingerie that drives me bananas, she keeps her hair all shiny and soft... she even loves to cook dinner - "

"Hence you wanting to check-in so you don't miss it -"

Finn chuckles and then continues, "she's just like - the best of both worlds I guess. Not scared to break a nail, but likes to get 'em done on occasion."

Dave grins, and then clinks his nearly empty beer bottle against Finn's.

"To beautiful people who are the best of both worlds."

"Yeah. Cool, man."

Then Dave polishes off the rest of his beer, their exchange transforming itself into a solemn, yet comfortable silence.

As the minutes wear on the bar is slowly becoming more packed, a swollen air of laughter and loud conversation permeating the atmosphere.

Several consecutive shots have been had at this point, and Dave is on his seventh beer... His mind inexplicably fills with thoughts of Kurt...

Right, the seventh beer: the number he'd reached the night that Kurt had randomly texted him...

He looks over at Finn who had grown uncharacteristically quiet. It was the first time that it felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Hey, Hudson - You alright?"

"Huh? Oh - Yeah, man. Sorry. Just zoned out for a minute."

"It happens."

"Yeah."

Dave continues holding him in a side long stare, shifting his position on the stool to more fully face the taller man.

"You sure you're okay? You look kind of out of it - "

"This place isn't usually this crowded," Finn comments off handedly.

Somewhere in the distance a glass breaks and Finn jumps, looking around wildly, his eyes shining with fear. Dave clutches his shoulder, shaking it a bit.

"Hey - Hey - Finn, it's okay. It's alright, it was just a glass. Somebody broke a glass - that's all."

Finn breathes out shakily, and then swallows, nodding as if trying to convince himself.

"Right. Just a glass. Sorry, I - uh - It's nothing. Never mind."

Dave claps him on the shoulder in hopes of being comforting. "How 'bout another shot?"

Finn shakes his head, wiping off the miniscule bead of sweat that had begun to form above his upper lip. "Nah. I'm gonna have to drive. But - um - another beer wouldn't hurt."

"Got it. The same?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. I'll be back."

"Thanks, Dave."

Dave nodded reassuringly and pushed past the crowd to the other side of the bar where the bartenders were handling the busiest portion of the customers.

As Dave was nearing the bar, it happened again... Kurt's face swimming in his mind's eye for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening. He pulls out his phone and before he can stop himself, he's dialing the number headed by the name 'Fancy,' fingers in his ears to try to drown out the clamourous bar climate.

It rings, and rings, then...

_"Hello. You've reached the voice mail of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Sorry I can't answer the phone right now, but please leave me a message that is rather less detailed as I'm a busy man. Thank you and have a remarkably, splendid day."_

_Beep..._

"Um - Hey, Kurt. This is Dave. Karofsky. I - uh - shit - I dunno know what to say really. The other night I - Look, I don't wanna make this about us. I was actually callin' cause I'm out with Finn and I don't know if you're available but - I think you might wanna come down. He's kinda got me a little worried. We're at the um - the Oxford - downtown, so, yeah - maybe I'll see ya. Okay - bye."

"What can I get you man, I got people waiting."

"Right. Sorry - let me get a shot of the same and also another Heineken. Actually, make it two shots. You can just put it on my tab."

When he returns, Finn is still harboring a resigned expression, capping off his old beer and barely looking up at Dave when he receives the new one.

"I - uh - I called Kurt. Asked him if wanted to join us," Dave tried.

"Oh. That's cool. He might not like this place though."

"That doesn't exactly surprise me."

"I thought of asking him to come along before. But then I remembered how he said he'd rather gouge out his own eyes with high heels than come to this place."

"Naturally. What guy wouldn't wanna do that?"

"You - uh - you remind of me this one kid. A guy in my unit. Turner. John Turner," Finn abruptly states out of the blue.

Dave doesn't say anything as he tips back the first shot, eyeing Finn warily.

"He was from Nebraska or something. Some farm boy fresh out of high school. He would always joke about having sex with sheep for entertainment cause he was always so bored back home. He collected comic books - even had the first issue - the actual original copy of the Incredible Hulk. He'd fucking brag about it for hours sometimes. He was always in a good mood, just - one of those guys that was just grateful to be alive - to be doing something important. And at night, when everybody else was asleep, he would ask me to sing to him - to help him go to sleep since he'd get these really bad nightmares. He was too scared to ask around the other guys - you know - embarrassed that they'd call him gay or a queer for being sung to. So he'd wait until most of them would drift off and then ask. He even apologized to me a couple times - said he was 'sorry to put me in that position.' I didn't judge him though - because I understood. I always had my picture of Amy... He just had my singing."

Dave felt the words gather against the inside of his lips, waiting to spill forth, but Finn continues before he can ask; as if he was simply talking to himself.

"We'd just finished this scouting mission and were heading back to base when they radioed for our squad to check out a suspected rallying point for a rogue group threatening to bomb a school. We went in - checked out the area - hoping to at least get some intel. Nothing. We should've retreated then, but the acting sergeant insisted we keep looking. So we were split up into pairs and... I lost half my squad that day."

Finn takes a long swig of his beer, swallowing audibly.

"Turner - he, uh - got half his head blown off. And the trip was, he didn't even die right away. He was crying, screaming, begging for me to take him home. I picked him up, and got him out of there - I tried anyway. I made it about fifty feet before I triggered a nearby mine. Turner took most of the blast though - blew him nearly clean in half... And I - Well, you've seen that I won't be doin' any dancing good or bad anytime soon," and Finn punctuates the end of his story by taking another drag from his beer.

Dave is silent, unsure of what to do or say to Finn's revelation regarding his marine experience. Dave figured it'd been bad... but he'd only just figured.

"They gave me a medal. A fucking medal for getting a guy blown in half and rendering myself into a cripple. That's honor for you," He nearly spat.

"Fuck, Finn."

"Hey - I'm sorry dude. Really. This is s'posed to be about you and here I go muckin' it up with some old horror stories -"

"Nah. It's cool, man. I - I - didn't know. I'm glad I know, now."

Finn nods his head, then looks up at Dave sheepishly.

"Thanks, Dave."

"For what man?"

"For - just listening - you know? Nobody really ever just _listened_ before. Mostly cause I was too scared to tell them about it, or maybe they just didn't want to hear it. I mean, Burt's the only one I ever told the details to. And now you."

Dave didn't know what to say to that. Finn Hudson had divulged one of the biggest parts of himself - a very complicated, horribly vulnerable part - to _him_. He thinks the emotion coursing through him is maybe gratitude, but it feels cheap to try to put it into words.

"Sure you don't want another beer?"

"I'm good thanks - "

"But I'll gladly take one if you're buying, Karofsky."

Oh for the love of all that is remotely good on this planet...

"Why?" is all Dave manages to hiss.

Dave's sure he notes a brief flash of guilt in Kurt's gaze as he volley's between burning eye holes into Nick, and shooting Kurt a furtive, questioning look.

"I got your message David. I was with Nick at the time - "

"So I decided to join him," Nick interrupts with amusement. "Thought maybe we could catch up some more, as you so - _generously_ put it the last time we saw each other."

"Nick. Please - we talked about this -"

"What? I'm being friendly like you asked, okay? Look - Karofsky, Kurt's brother, I'd be ecstatic for the opportunity to buy you guys a drink."

"No!

"No, thanks."

Dave and Finn simultaneously refuse, the latter a tad less scathing then the former.

"Well, there you have it. I tried. Babe, what do you want?"

"Something strong. And take your time. Please?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Nick concedes in a bored manner as he stalks off.

Dave watches the back of his head disappear among the other patrons with a deep sense of loathing before turning back to face Kurt.

"And here I was about to tell you how happy I am to see you," Dave remarks with an air of indignation.

Kurt ignores him and turns to Finn. "Hey," He greets, his tone suddenly filled with concern.

"Hey, Bro."

"You, okay?"

"Yeah - um - Dave and I were just - doin' a little chattin' that's all."

Kurt purses his lips, a grim sort of smile overtaking the pouty flesh. "Well - good. Are you sure you're okay?"

Finn shrugs. "It's just - kinda loud in here."

Kurt nods knowingly, then pats Finn on the shoulder. "Did you call Amy yet?"

"Oh - shit - I left my phone in the car. Um - I'd better go call -"

"Yeah. Go call her before she starts bugging me to hunt you down."

"Thanks, Kurt."

Kurt simply smiles and shoo's him away with a wave of his hand. Finn slowly steps down from the stool and hobbles his way through the crowd, Dave and Kurt watching him make his exit with an identical grimace.

"It gets bad sometimes. He'll have these horrible nightmares that keep him awake all night, or these really vivid flashbacks. He tries to act like it's not a big deal - but we all worry."

Dave bites his lip as Finn finally disappears throught the exit, neither he or Kurt turning to acknowledge each other; just continuing to stare ahead at nothing in particular.

"It used to be just any loud noises. But he's gotten a lot better with that since he's been working at the shop. Sometimes the combination of a crowd and certain noises can trigger it though."

"I'm sorry," Dave elicits somberly.

"You didn't give him that limp David -"

"No. Not about that. I'm sorry about us - the other night."

"I thought you said this wasn't about us -"

"It isn't. Not all of it. This moment - Right now? Yeah it is about us. I'm making it about us."

Kurt turns to look at Dave who is staring unabashedly, his hazel eyes piercing.

"You were right - about Nick not being any of my business. I just - I really care about you Kurt. And I know that may seem completely unorthodox and probably ridiculous given our circumstances. But I don't care. I want to get to know you better. I want to be able to act on how much I care -"

Kurt's blue eyes are widening with each word.

"Er - as friends, I mean. Caring as friends."

Kurt's smiling up at him, the blue of his eyes appearing soft and warm, much less grave and cool then they had merely moments before. He cups Dave's face between his pale hands, and places a kiss to his cheek.

"I'd like that, David."

Dave has just barely enough time to return the smile before a grating voice echoes in his ear.

"Is this a theme for you or what Karofsky?"

Kurt is already shooting Nick a rather withering look, which he soundly ignores as he only seems to have eyes for Dave.

Sure, Dave would've been more than happy to break the dude's nose, or make a reference to him being a new breed of an unpleasant shit stain on the underside of a toilet seat, but instead something else happens...

"Wouldn't you like to get away, Nick -"

"What? The fuck you talkin' about? -"

_Sometimes you want to go_

_Where everybody knows your name_

"Dude, what the shit? -"

_And they're always glad you came_

"You're fuckin' weird."

And suddenly, Kurt chimes in.

_You wanna be where you can see _

_Our troubles are all the same_

Then they're both smiling as they sing out the last part of the verse together.

_You wanna be where everybody knows your name..._

Dave pretends to beat out the last notes of the song on an air piano as Kurt nods in time, snapping his fingers. They beam at each other once they've concluded they're impromptu duet rendition of the Cheers theme song.

"Wow. Gay, gay, and more gay."

"I believe a strapping young Ted Danson of old would disagree with you sir," Dave relates in a playful tone.

"Whatever dick. Kurt, you checked on your brother already. He seemed fine. Let's go."

"Wha - Nick - we just got here -"

"We've been here long enough, alright? I turn my back to get you a fuckin' drink - and I come back to see you giving this big bastard a fuckin' kiss -"

"It was just on the cheek Nicholas. Jesus - "

"Whatever. I don't like it."

"Since when did you all of the sudden _own_ me? I think I must've missed that memo."

Nick makes sure to look around, ensuring that they aren't being subjected to nearby eavesdropping before retorting.

"Since you've let me fuck you into a writhing fucking mess at my whim. Now - lets. Go."

"I can't believe - "

Kurt splutters into silence as Dave stands up. His glare icy, burning with suppressed agitation screaming to be set free.

"I think it'd be a good idea for you to apologize and then get lost."

"Oh, really Karofsky? I think it'd be a better idea for you to get the fuck out of my business."

"I'm asking you nicely. But it's only gonna be once."

"You threatening me?"

"No. You'd know if I was threatening you. 'Cause then I'd say something like this: Leave, or I will seriously split you in half like a wish bone, throw your body parts in the dumpster outside, light it on fire, down a six pack as an afterthought, and then piss all over your fuckin' ashes. Don't fuck with me! ... Something more to the effect of that."

Nick looks like he's ready to throw a punch which Dave is totally ready for. Just as Nick appears to make a move Kurt steps in the middle of the two.

"Boys - enough! Nick just leave. If I ask you again, your wife might be getting a phone call... the anonymous kind."

"You wouldn't do that - "

"Try me."

"Fuck you, you slut!"

Dave attempts to grab at Nick but Kurt effectively holds him at bay, his hands splayed over Dave's chest, blue eyes piercing him.

"David! No! Bye Nick."

"Have a good trip walkin.' Oh and Karofsky - You might as well give up. 'Cause the only way you're gonna get in between those legs is if you have a fuckin' crow bar."

Dave tenses, Kurt still gripping against his chest. Then with one final cutting look, Nick treks through the crowd and out the door.

Dave is breathing heavily, his eyes still glued to the entrance where Nick disappeared from.

"Hey - Dave - It's fine. Let it go, okay?"

Dave exhales, shaking his clenched fists out to allow them to regain feeling.

"I'm too much of a gentleman to let the words 'I told you so' leave my lips, so let me just say, that guy's quite an unpleasant person."

"Karofsky and gentleman... two words I would've never dreamed would be able to go together."

"Stranger things have happened Fancy."

"Stranger then my ex bully hate kissing me, threatening to kill me, then asking for my forgiveness while wearing quite the fashion faux pas on his head in the form of a terrible beret, then getting married to a woman while pretending to be straight, and then claiming he wants to be my friend after over a decade of nearly no contact. Stranger than that?"

"Probably not."

"Didn't think so."

"Well, when you sum it up like that - "

"Uh huh. And now I need to excuse myself to the restroom. I'll return shortly Mr. Karofsky."

Dave breathes out a long overdue sigh as he knocks down the other shot he'd ordered some time before. Fuck... All he'd wanted to do was just celebrate his damn divorce...

Another beer and several minutes later, Dave spots Kurt near the bathroom trying to get around a few guys blocking his path... It looks to be about four of five making up the group.

Kurt's expression gradually morphs from slightly disgruntled to all out furious; his bitch face in full effect as he stands with his hands on hips facing the dudes. His mouth moving as if he's giving them more then a fair piece of his mind. Another moment later, his eyes seem to lose that glint, a sense of fear overtaking that confident disposition.

Dave puts down his beer, and without a second thought, makes his way over to the small group which has gone un-noticed by the other bar patrons drunkenly carrying on.

"Look Doug. Boy here talks like a woman. Told ya he was a fag. I could smell it from over there."

"Problem?" Dave warns coldly as he steps in front of Kurt.

"Oh shit man - you were right. This must be his fudge packin' lover boy. Two faggots for the price of one - "

"Look you said what you had to say. Now just leave us alone. We weren't bothering you," Kurt reasons.

"Weren't botherin' us? The fuck you weren't, fag. You _existing_ bothers me. Let alone you being in the same space as me. It sickens me to my fuckin' core. I mean - It's bad enough y'all got that shitty little bar down the way, but now you're comin' in here, invading my space too? That ain't acceptable - "

"Let us through. We'll leave," Dave states coolly. "We don't want trouble."

"You got it the minute you walked in here knob shiner."

And then before Dave can blink, it happens - an explosion of sorts. It starts with Dave being pushed aside while one of the men grabs at Kurt. Then it's nothing but a blur of punching, crashing, bodies hitting tables, and a general frenzy of crazed, violent, movement...

Dave crashes his fist into the one called Doug, sending him over a table, flips another over his shoulder who attempts to attack him from behind. Then he's hit in his ribs effectively knocking the wind out of him, a fist exploding into the side of his head, blind siding him as he attempts to regain his breath.

"DAVID!"

Kurt is trying to get to him, trying to push through and jump in...

"Aargh!" Dave screams as he throws a haymaker that lands into one of the men's eye, a flurry combo that sufficiently pounds against another one's body, causing him to lurch and fall over. It's now four on one, Dave holding his own as he exchanges blow for blow, elbowing one of the men and knocking him solidly into another which causes the two to stagger momentarily - And then someone else joins the ruckus - a really tall someone...

"Finn - NO!"

Finn swung a chair full force at one, causing it to shatter and splinter over the bar floor, and then jumped head first into the throng, hitting the one fucker who'd managed to pin Dave's arms behind his back square in the jaw, knocking him away.

Finn's like a wild animal who'd finally been uncaged and prompted to kill. Nothing seems to penetrate his need to punch the shit out of every guy launching themself at him or Dave. Eventually it ends with people scrambling away, Finn suffocating that Doug bastard in a deadly choke hold... his buddies that aren't already laid out trying to pull him away...

Dave is struggling to get to him when a hard 'crash' pierces the atmosphere, a sudden uncontrollable pounding overtaking his head. He reaches up and realizes he's been hit over the head... the broken glass near his feet signals that it was definitely a bottle - not to mention the warmth spilling between his fingers as he runs them over where he'd been smacked.

He falls forward with a groan. He thinks he hears Kurt calling his name, but there's so much noise and chaos, he can't be sure...

Dave looks up to see Finn pushing the guy he'd been holding away from him, his eyes shining brightly, scrambling in a sitting position as if he was suddenly coming to his senses - a frightened, pleading air emanating from him as he rocked in place.

Kurt is leaning over Dave, his hand steady on his large back.

"Oh - God - Dave, are you - we have to get you to a hospital - "

"Nah. I'm fine. Kurt - get Finn outta here."

"B-but your head - "

"Please Fancy. Just get Finn and go."

Kurt looks over at Finn, his blue eyes pooling with tears.

"I can't just leave you - "

"If you don't want Finn to be in a holdin' cell - I suggest you get him outta here. Please Fancy. I'll be okay."

Kurt looks completely torn, but eventually he nods placidly and gathers Finn, whispering to him as he pulls him up roughly by the shoulders. Finn is nodding in return, his skin pale and eyes bright, as they both push out of the door with the rest of the fleeting crowd.

Dave huffs and slumps against the bar, the security finally seeming to resolve the commotion and detain some of the men involved in the skirmish. When he hears sirens some time later, he thinks of what Danny would say about her brother now... Drunk, bleeding, and very soon to be in handcuffs.

Happy divorce party asshole, he thinks grimly.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **We're gonna be taking a trip into Dave's mind a bit in this one. Some flashbacks and sad thoughts and general angsty-ness. Stay with me guys. The reviews have been awesome and again, keep me writing even when I'm tired or feeling wiped out. Knowing that someone's willing to take the time to read and give thoughts really pushes me to continue. Thanks again.

**Warnings:** Mention of a minor character death.

* * *

_"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney..."_

_..._

_"Thankfully the cut isn't that deep; looks pretty clean too, so we can use an adhesive to pull it together..."_

_..._

_"Six more hours Mr. Karofsky, then you'll be able to sleep it off in a holding cell for a while..."_

_..._

_"One of the last ones from the Oxford brawl. He was just cleared by the Doc so he's good to go. Book him and let him have his phone call..."_

_..._

Snippets... Moments... Just flashes of conversation had about him, around him... He had honestly zoned out through most of it though, only recalling vague fragments of the commentary.

He briefly recalls being placed under arrest, the back of the squad car smelling like warm leather tainted by too many hours of sunlight, the feel of the metal handcuffs tight, pinching his skin...

The hospital. He pictured the waiting room, an area seeking to emulate an inviting space but only achieving a contrived affect full of anxiety and looming helplessness. People coughing, some with bloodied bandages on random portions of their bodies, others in wheelchairs looking as if they were going to keel over and die right there...

His doctor - he can't remember his face or his name for that matter - just that his voice was deep, and snippish; he was straight to the point with his words as well as with gluing shut the gash opened up by the beer bottle...

Then he was waiting. Those fucking cuffs connecting his wrist to the bed post where he was to remain under observation so as to avoid slipping into a concussed coma.

There, time seemed to weave patterns, rebuilding solely for his review of the last few hours of his life. And when that was successfully reconstructed and evaluated, then he'd go back further, thinking of the last month, then the last year, then further and further until he remembered why he'd hated hospitals so much.

He flashes back, his heart aching at the impending memory...

_"We're sorry Mr. Karofsky, but your wife - she - um - she didn't make it. The impact caused her brain to severely hemorrhage. We did what we could, but the damage was just too severe. I'm sorry - but there was nothing more we could do."_

_Dave sat there, the magazine he'd been flipping through just to glimpse the cool football guys on the cover fell loosely from his grip, his ten year old eyes transfixed on his father's rigid frame as the man dressed in a funny blue uniform patted his Dad's broad shoulder._

_Dave was tired. It was past his bedtime he knew, and his Mom was supposed to have been home a long time ago to cook dinner - his favorite too: spaghetti and meatballs. _

_Paul Karofsky had his large hands balled into fists, his face blank as he approached his son and sat down on the seat next to him. Dave had never seen his Dad look so weird before..._

_"Davey - I - er - I have to tell you something, son."_

_"Is Mom coming yet? I'm tired."_

_Paul shook his head, his eyes overlybright. "No, son. She - um - won't be coming."_

_Dave didn't understand. She said she was going to make his favorite - he'd been thinking about it all day during lunch time - planning to pretend that his meatballs were mini planets so he could swallow them up and practice his evil villain laugh._

_"Is she coming later?"_

_Paul's lip was trembling, his eyes slowly leaking translucent trails. Dave felt his face get hot and his mouth become dry. He'd never seen his Dad do that before. Not even when he'd hit his thumb with a hammer by accident trying to hang up that one family picture when they'd gone to the beach - Dave was little then, like six or something, but he still remembers how fun that day was. Paul clears his throat and continues._

_"No Davey. She's not. Mom's not - she's not here anymore."_

_"B-But, I want to see her. Where is she?"_

_"She's gone sweetheart. We can't see Mommy anymore."_

_Dave didn't like this. This was a mean joke his Dad was playing. He felt his heart begin to race, his eyes brimming with panicked tears._

_"No! I want Mom! I want to go home - "_

_"Davey. Please, son - "_

_"No! She's not gone. She's just - she's just had to go and get something from the store - she's gonna come home- "_

_"I'm so sorry Davey - I'm so sorry my boy," and Paul Karofsky dissolves into tears, his face buried in his hands as he slumps forward._

_Dave is terrified and he hates his Dad for telling him that his Mom isn't coming back. She was always there. When he needed the crusts cut off his sandwhiches, or when he needed an opinion on the newest picture of a galactic space battle that he'd drawn... or to cuddle him when he was sad after the kids at school called him names again..._

_His Mom loved him. She would never leave him..._

The thought's are still lingering. He's already been sitting here in the holding cell for some hours.

A car wreck - a stupid fucking rain soaked highway and an easily destructable, factory made hunk of metal and plastic bull shit had effectively taken away his world.

Damn... He hadn't thought about his Mom in what felt like years. At least not how she'd... His mind shifts again, automatically steering away from the thoughts of his Mother.

Instead he thinks of blue eyes filled with fear and hurt, pleading with him - the teenaged version of himself... Now those same blue eyes filling with concern and what looked to be actual care for him, the adult Dave, as the man hesitated to gather his step brother and retreat, Dave's fingers laced in his own hair in an attempt to staunch the trickling blood as he watched him eventually leave...

In many ways, his life had changed forever when he'd lost his Mom. In other ways, it had changed forever when he'd glimpsed that boy with those damn blue eyes sauntering down the halls with his chin held high and an almost defiant switch in his hips.

Why can't he turn his fucking mind off already?

He refused to make his phone call upon entry into the police station. Didn't see the point. His Dad would probably have a heart attack at the news of where he was. He thought of calling Lisa, just for a moment, but then he knew he would never hear the end of it.

He mostly wanted to call Kurt. But he honestly didn't think he could stand the thought of him not answering, or worse yet - the disappointment of him outright refusing to come.

Some time later, his name is called.

"Karofsky. David. You made bail."

Dave slowly stood up, stretching a bit before asking, "Who?"

"Ain't got all day, man. Let's go, and you'll find out. Unless you wanna stay in there."

Dave just shot the guard a hopefully menacing, but surely exhausted glare, and followed him out of the cell.

Fuck.

Paul Karofsky. Death glare, and crossed arms both present and accounted for as he stood eyeing his son. Dave felt himself shrink into the same confused ten year old boy from the past just that quickly.

The car ride home was suffocating. Neither man said a word the entire way. Dave was sure it was coming though: the inevitable schpiel about Dave needing to pack his shit and get out as soon as they made it back.

When they pulled up into the drive way, Paul turned off the engine, and simply sat there. Dave was just too fatigued and weary to elicit a response, or make a plea, even to try to apologize... He just sat and waited as well, wondering what motels were close enough so he wouldn't have to drive too far.

"Let's get this straight."

Huh. Interesting choice of words, Dave thinks.

"You're going to start working toward finding a job or some sort of means of an income."

For the first time since sitting down in the car, Dave manages to spare his Father a contemplative look.

"I know about your job situation, David. I've known for a while now."

Dave must look slightly shocked, because Paul easily hastens on, an air of blatant avoidance about the sudden discourse.

"Also you're going to start going to meetings. And I don't care to hear any crap about you not needing it. You _will_ go if you want to remain under this roof. More importantly, you will do so if you want to remain a part of your sister's life. End of story."

He could feel his heart contract at those words.

"Danny - "

"Doesn't know about this. And I'd rather keep it that way. Wouldn't you?"

Dave opened his mouth to counter but found that the words escaped him; that they would likely fall flat and probably mirror too closely to an excuse anyway.

"Now get out of my car. I need time to think."

Dave doesn't hesitate as he groggily pulls himself up and exits.

"And David?"

He halts, holding the door ajar.

"You owe me five hundred bucks."

Dave huffs as he closes the door behind him. The defeat and tiredness wrapping him up like a makeshift Christmas gift as he silently treks toward the house.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** And here's another one for your reading and hopefully (pretty please) reviewing pleasure.

**Warnings:** Curse words, stuff of that nature, and also mentions of minor character deaths as well as mental illness (PTSD symptoms).

**Disclaimer:** I owns none of it, including the mention of products or whatever else I talked about that I don't own. Well, the plot, that's mine... oh yeah, the words accompanying said plot... those too.

* * *

He was sitting outside in the backyard drinking a glass of water. It was the first time in a long time he could recall drinking water without the intention of using it as a tool to sober up. It tasted... unfamiliar.

He couldn't tell, but he thinks he hears the doorbell echoing. Groaning, he stands up to double check that he isn't just hearing shit.

Nope. He wasn't hearing shit.

There stood Kurt, now engrossed in conversation with his sister. He never liked the idea of her answering the door without him being aware, but it was officially her summer vacation, and the kid was curious by nature.

"Hey," Kurt breathes when he notices him standing there.

"Hey," Dave returns.

"I - um - I brought you these," Kurt states shyly, holding up a carefully constructed bouqet. It was admittedly beautiful: a bundle of roses, yellow, white, and a single red rose dead center.

Dave can't help but smile. "You do know that I'm not dead, right?"

"Shut up. I wasn't sure what to bring so I just - whatever - stop complaining and point me to a vase."

"Dave actually likes flowers. Carnations," Danny supplies.

"Oh, really?" Kurt elicits with a suspisciously growing cheshire cat smirk.

"Yeah, he's always liked those."

"Duly noted. Perhaps you'd be so kind then Danny to escort me to a vase?"

"No problem, Mr. Hummel."

"Sweetie, please - just Kurt. Even hearing the word 'mister' just catapaults my fear of sprouting gray hair prematurely, which is a serious phobia not to be toyed with."

She laughs as she leads him into the kitchen, Dave following along with a demure grin at their easy exchange.

He watches as Danny pulls a plain looking glass vase from the cabinet. Dave noted how much taller she'd gotten evidenced by her ability to procure the vase without need of the old step ladder his Dad kept in the storage closet. Dave leaned against the cupboard, watching as Kurt filled the vase with water, Danny standing idely by while sniffing the bouqet.

"Do you happen to have a pair of scissors?" Kurt questions, settling the waterfilled vase on the counter.

"They're in the drawer right next to you on your right," Danny explains.

Kurt wastes no time as he hastily retrieves the scissors. "May I borrow those?" He inquires, nodding at the flowers.

She nods in return, and allows Kurt to take the bouqet. He snips the stems, creating an angled edge on each rose.

"Takes in water better when they're clipped. Helps them live longer."

That's right. Kurt had done a stint working at a floral shop for a while. Dave is utterly fascinated by the way he moves so easily, an art to how he arranges and adjusts the bouqet, a natural grace and enviable comfort with his surroundings that makes Dave begin to imagine what it would be like to come home to Kurt - to watch him move around a kitchen - to push him up against the counter, rip off his pants and - Wait...

He has to take a deep breath and pray that his inner thoughts haven't signalled his dick to stand at attention... And, of course - just his luck - he's got a slowly mounting flesh rager mocking him.

He shifts, making sure to cross his legs instead of eliciting an open legged stance, hoping to hide any evidence of his random fantasy, groaning audibly at the way his jeans chafe against his surely swelling boner.

"You okay?"

"Mmhm. Just - um - my neck's a little sore. Guess maybe I slept weird."

"Right. Lack of neck support can be the worst. I can probably help you out with that."

Dave swallows. Holy fuck - did he imagine that, or did Kurt just notice his - er - predicament? Was he offering what Dave absurdly was thinking he was offering?

"Um - W-what?"

"Your neck David. I can probably give you a quick neck massage so you can forgo your animalistic grunting."

"Oh. Right. Maybe, yeah."

"The flowers are really nice Mister Hum - I mean, Kurt," Danny announces from what feels like another time zone. "Is it okay for me to put them on the table? I think Dad would like 'em a lot," she poses imploringly at Dave.

He nods, then sighs heavily, hoping to dispel the sense of building anxiety and other forms of tension that have recently developed.

"Yeah, kid. Go ahead and put 'em on the table."

Danny gingerly plucks up the vase and exits the kitchen with a rather foreign - and if Dave squinted a bit - quite possibly cunning grin on her face. Kurt is now eyeing Dave from across the space, curiousity evident in his gaze, a single shapely eyebrow arching toward his hairline.

"So..."

"So."

"Tour?"

"Huh?"

"A tour. This is my first official time in your childhood home. I believe I've earned the right to the grand tour. You know, bringing you flowers and all."

"Whatever happened to the word please, Hummel?"

"My 'please' came in the shape of a bouqet. Now let's go."

Dave chuckles, his laughter falling into an easy smile as Kurt pushes him forward.

There isn't much to the place. You had your standard living room and dining area, Kurt had already seen the kitchen. It was nice he supposed. Clean, warm and well lived in. Dave was never a good host, and didn't give much commentary as he guided Kurt along from room to room, Kurt pointing out some random convection and Dave half heartedly explaining it.

It wasn't until they were mounting the stairs that Dave felt himself pause with true apprehension - the moment Kurt pointed out the picture that had simultaneously haunted him, and brought him comfort for years...

"Is that you?" Kurt asked, his tone light.

"Yeah. I was about six, I think."

"You were too adorable. And your Dad was looking strapping if I do say so."

Dave was hoping - almost praying really, that Kurt wouldn't ask. That maybe he would have only noticed the two in the photo and had miraculously missed the other prominent figure taking up the squared space.

"The woman - is that your - your Mom?"

He almost groans again, but doesn't want to be accused of morphing into some sort of manimal creature.

"Yeah. That's her."

"Oh. Does she, um - live around here?"

His eyes grow warm.

"No."

"Oh. A different state?"

"She's dead."

Dave didn't mean for it to come out so harshly. But it was true wasn't it? She was dead. Had been for what felt like forever, and on other days, no time at all.

"I - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pryed, I -"

"It's fine Fancy. Let's just - head up to my room."

Kurt provides a weak nod, following Dave the rest of the way up the staircase and into his old bedroom.

Dave sinks into his desk chair while Kurt plops down on his bed, his blue eyes traveling around the territory, non-chalantly analyzing the ancient posters bordering his favorite hockey teams, and band interests of old. It was funny how his Dad hadn't ever really changed his room. Even after all these years.

It's something about the way Kurt is leaning back on his elbows, looking so delectably vulnerable and care-free that causes the words to erupt like word vomit.

"It was a car crash. I was ten."

Kurt sits up, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and understanding.

"It was the 'big C' for mine. I'd just turned eight."

Dave only manages a grimace at this disclosure. He'd been hoping for a supportive smile, maybe even a wry one, but his face was being a stony, un-cooperative cunt right now.

"I remember hearing about your Mom - I think Hudson mentioned it once - sort of randomly after a game or something. He'd been talking to Puckerman about wanting to make his Dad proud - that you're the only one he knew of that understood what it was like losing someone."

Kurt watches Dave with a careful eye, the gleam in his own blue eyes substantially brighter.

"Y-you never told anyone about your Mom?"

Dave shakes his head, the warmth resurfacing behind his hazel orbs.

"Nah. I never like talking about her. The only person I'd ever directly told was Azimio. I guess I just - It was easier to _not _talk about her after a while. At first I did. I tried to anyway. I would never shut up about her. But my Dad he - um - it was too much I think - talking about her all the time. I'd go out of my way to bring up old memories or stories, tell him everday how I wished she could be here. One day I remember he just asked me to stop - to just give it a rest. Eventually I realized it didn't change anything. That talking or reminiscing - It wouldn't bring her back. So I did. I just stopped thinking about it."

"That's - that's awful, David."

"What do you mean? You went through it too - "

"Yeah but, I had my Dad who let me vent. And my vivid imagination. Eventually I had my friends. I think I got through it _because_ of the remembering. It was painful at first sure, but it did get better, until the stories that were funny, somehow managed to be funny again. And the memories - didn't leave a cold, sort of empty feeling anymore. Blaine helped a lot with it actually. He was really great about it."

Dave felt a pang of envy, noting the far off expression on Kurt's face at the mention of the hobbit. Great... He can't even win against a fucking memory of the little bastard.

"How's Hudson?" He poses, hoping to change the subject and prompt Kurt's face to not look like that: full of past happiness and bittersweet regret.

Kurt shakes his head and re-trains his gaze on Dave. "Finn?"

"Yeah. You know, the uncoordinated giant who used to think black holes were actually floating vaginas? Probably still does. Also known as your step brother?"

"I don't think I wanna know about that story. But yeah - he's - well - it honestly was rough. He - um - I had to give him a pretty high dosage of valume to finally get him to go to sleep."

"How often does he get like that?"

"It used to be every other day, but it got better over time. When he kept himself occupied and of course having Jamie around. But at night - night was always the worst. This was probably the worst he's been in months."

"What happened, Fancy?"

Kurt swallows, then takes a deep breath that he exhales slowly.

"I decided to spend the night over at his house - keep an eye on him. Plus I didn't want Amy to worry. I was taking a phone call - I guess I must've been on longer than I realized because when I look up, Finn was gone. I checked everywhere around the house. Then I found him outside."

Kurt pauses, the gesture conveying a sense of foreboding. Dave gets up from his chair and seats himself on the bed, his hand awkwardly patting Kurt's shoulder.

"He - he - was in the backyard. Standing there like a zombie in nothing but his underwear and combat boots. He was holding a kitchen knife, mumbling about _them_ coming to take Jaime. That he had to fight them off, kill them all to protect her."

"Fancy, you should've called someone - "

"Like who? I don't want to see him end up in a straight jacket, David - "

"But he had a knife. He was probably in the middle of a flashback. You can't approach someone when they have a freakin' weapon mid-traumatic recall, family or not - "

"I was able to talk to him," Kurt said defensively. "It took a while, but eventually he calmed down - realized who I was and where he was. He collapsed into tears afterwards. God it was so hard to see that - it hurts me so much to see him when he gets that way. Eventually I got him to the couch, he took the valume and passed out not long after."

Dave was now clutching Kurt's shoulder. He hadn't even realized that he'd been doing it until Kurt's words stopped flowing, and a stillness filled the space. He removed his hand, looking at in awe as he placed it on the bed near his side, fingertips digging into the comforter.

"Next time it happens, you should call me."

Kurt's grin re-emerges; it's cautious yet sweet.

"I suppose you _can_ handle your own. Unless you're up against a beer bottle that is."

"Yeah, those tend to be my kryptonite."

"How's your head by the way? I was worried I'd come over and you'd look like the Mummy."

"They just used the adhesive stuff, so no awesome battle scar to show off to some guy to prove my manliness."

Kurt tilts his head, blue eyes shining with ill disguised mirth. "You just said 'some guy'."

"So?"

"So - I've never heard you do that before. Reference a man. It's refreshing."

"Kurt I'm not like - a virgin - or anything."

"Well I know - you said you'd been with Lisa. I'd imagine there were other girls too - "

"No. I mean - not a virgin - you know, with dudes or whatever. I've had sex with guys before," he exclaims with a renewed steadiness to his voice.

"Oh. I - I'm sorry, I just thought - "

"It's understandable. They were just flings anyway. A few randoms during college. No big deal."

"To you maybe. But David, that's a big step. A huge step. Probably _thee_ step, actually - "

"Like I said - it didn't mean anything."

Dave feels slightly apologetic at his tone which he knew sounded acidic, and full of an undeniable finality. Kurt grows quiet momentarily, letting the subject die away and recede into the air to remain unfinished.

Kurt's voice, more tentative and unsure than before, re-commences.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For what you did for Finn. I know the hospital wasn't the only place you ended up."

Dave looks up at Kurt. "What are you talking about?"

Kurt smiles, then sighs as if exasperated. "Your Dad. I called him."

"W-what?"

"I called him and told him where to find you. I knew I couldn't be there so I thought somebody should. I'm sorry if I over-stepped my boundaries - but - I just couldn't stand the thought of you being in there alone. Not after what you did, David."

Dave could feel the blush rising up his skin, a red flush budding over his neck and spreading toward his cheeks. Thank that grilled cheesus dude for Dave having a beard; perfect camoflauge for moments like this.

"They were gonna hurt you. I know you probably have pepper spray or Lisol or something in your man-purse but it still wouldn't have been a fair fight. Plus those idiots probably would've been immune to it. Fuckin' hicks probably drink it in their spare time when they run out of alcohol."

Kurt laughs. It sounded beautiful - perfect - to Dave.

"Either way, no one's ever done anything like that before. Not Blaine... And certainly not Nick. Hell those were probably some of Nick's football buddies from high school for all I know. So thank you... David Karofsky."

"Yeah well I'm just sorry that it happened it all. You didn't deserve that. And I'm really sorry that Finn got involved."

Kurt sighs contentedly and brushes a kiss to Dave's already flushed cheek. Dave just stares at him, probably the goofiest looking grin known to man slapped on his face.

"So - neck?"

"Huh?"

"Your neck David. I'm no professional of course, but I've been told that my fingers could service royalty, they're that magical."

Dave couldn't help but recall a certain comment that Nick had made some time ago at Scandal's about Kurt's head giving prowess. His anger flares at the thought, his sure grin easily shrinking into a heavy scowl.

"I don't have to, you know."

Shit. Kurt must've thought the frown was a result of his offer. Nice one Karofsky.

"Oh, no. It's not that. I - um - you know that I wasn't really - my neck isn't actually..."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Scoot forward Neanderthal."

Dave does as he's told and Kurt perches behind him, his slender fingers immediately attaching to Dave's broad neck and diligently working over the muscle. It feels aboslutely heavenly. He has to suppress a groan at the contact, willing himself to not get hard again.

"Your mom. I bet she was beautiful."

Kurt continues kneding Dave's shoulders, the touch becoming noticeably lighter as the smaller man seems to be contemplating a response.

"She was actually. Gorgeous."

"And I recall your Dad being pretty feisty if the permanent choke hold bruise around my neck is any indication. I take it that side comes from him."

Kurt guffaws, and gently smacks Dave on the back of his neck.

"Shit, Fancy! Injured man here."

"You deserved it. That and more. Ass."

"Forgiveness is divine," Dave reminds him.

"I don't know." Kurt mutters, instantaneously returning back to seriousness. "My Dad used to tell me that my Mom was just as stubborn, if not more so than him. And that if she really wanted something, she went for it - no hesitation, no second thought. That she was really passionate, and kind hearted, and wanted to save everybody... But apparently, she didn't take shit either."

"So in other words, I was lucky that I only dealt with your Dad and an elbow check instead of your Mom and whatever she may have had in store."

"Basically," Kurt chortles.

"Noted."

"I bet your Mom was warm, like - that kind of person that drew people to her. And funny... That smile, it looked infectious," Kurt pronounces jovially.

Dave ducks his head, allowing Kurt to push his fingers deeper into his unexpectedly knotted neck. He hopes the tears can stay behind his eyes at this angle.

"She was. I remember her being super witty, funny... And a dreamer. She always had these huge ideas and crazy thoughts about the world and making it what you wanted. She always had a way with words. Now that, unfortunately, I didn't get from her."

"I wouldn't be so sure. You may not say much, but when you do, it's pretty notable."

"Notable's good I guess."

"I'd say so."

Dave moans when Kurt hit's a particular spot, both men pausing.

"Sorry," Dave mumbles.

"No. It's fine," Kurt answers breathlessly. "You're - um - just confirming that I do in fact have the magic in me."

Dave can feel his heart rate rise, the redness of his blush probably coating the entirety of his face at this point. But more than anything, he notices it: Kurt's hands slowing their pace, running along his neck and shoulders in a gradual caress, fingers trailing lightly over his skin causing goosebumps to bubble up in their wake.

And then he feels it, breath ghosting against the back of his neck... As if Kurt was leaning in, his plump lips mere inches from his sensitive skin... Dave's breath hitches in anticipation and shock...

_Stop in the name of love_

_Before you break my heart_

_Think it over_

Kurt shoots up as the ring tone sounds again, seemingly coming out of his daze, he reaches into his satchel (otherwise known as man purse to Dave) and pulls out his cell phone.

Dave feels himself exhale, like the weight of a thousand lost opportunities were expelled from his body with the release of the compiled air that had filled up his lungs during the exchange.

Kurt is looking down at his phone, his expression slightly disgruntled at the sight of the name shining on his call screen.

"I'd better take this."

Dave nods in understanding, running his hand through his hair and wincing as he runs over the small patch of adhesive by accident.

"Hey... No... I told you I was - It's not... Okay... Fine, I'll talk to you later... Bye." Kurt looks up apologetically and stores his cell back inside of his carrying bag. "Sorry about that."

"Nick, right?"

Kurt opens his mouth to speak but then closes it, his eyes shining with growing defiance. Yep, that confirmed it.

"Next time, tell him I said hey."

"Don't be an asshole, David."

"_I'm_ being an asshole. Right, cause it's always me. It'll always be me that's making the mistake or being a dick, right?"

"That's not what I said. I wish you would stop putting words in my mouth. And I thought we already had this conversation - the one about you not dictacting who I should be spending time with?"

"Kurt you said that we're friends. What's the difference between me looking out for you the way I did last night, and me looking out for you now? It's no different - "

"It is when it involves my personal relationships - "

"Damn it Kurt, I..."

Kurt eyes him from across the room. Hie blue eyes cold, and penetrating. Dave feels the intended words die on his lips.

"You're right. My fault."

A quick knock followed by the door bursting open to reveal his wide eyed sister, sufficiently interrupts Kurt's retort.

"Um - Hi - Sorry. But Dad's gonna be home soon and I thought maybe Mr. Hummel - sorry, Kurt, could stay for dinner."

Kurt looks at Dave while biting his lip, then returns his gaze back to a hopeful Danny.

"I'm sorry Danny. Thank you so much for the invite though, I'm very flattered. But I have to work tonight. Can I take a rain check?"

"Sure," she states solemnly. "I already started the noodles Davey."

"Thanks kiddo. I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay. Bye, Kurt."

"Bye Danny."

She closes the door, a soft clicking sound emanating as it shuts into place.

Dave sighs, then rises from the bed.

"C'mere."

"What?"

"C'mere."

Kurt tentatively steps forward, Dave nearly bursting into laughter at his level of perceived caution. When Kurt is standing a few inches in front of him, Dave pulls him forward and engulfs him in a tight hug.

"You just look like you needed one."

"I just think you needed to give one."

"Let's just - agree that both are probably true."

"That works," Kurt smiles, relaxing into Dave's un-announced bear hug. When they release each other, Dave has a feeling he wasn't the only who'd done so grudgingly.

"You should, ya know - join us next time?"

"I'll call you Mr. Karofsky."

"Unlike you, I don't get offended with your use of the word 'mister.' I just pretend that I'm a bottle of wine and that the signs of maturity only enhance my taste."

Kurt sniggers, a tell tale blush heating over his pale features.

"Careful. You might just pop your cork - " Kurt says slyly, eyeing Dave's crotch playfully.

And it's officially time for lift off... Fuck...

"Damn your magic fingers Hummel!"

"Uh huh. Ciao, tripod."

Kurt laughs as Dave chucks his pillow, only to hit the door as Kurt managed to slam it shut and safely escape. Dave shakes his head with a grin as he hears Kurt's giggling echo down the hall and trail away, the front door opening and shutting officially cutting off the lingering exult.

He's worked up. In more ways then one. His mind is racing a marathon, his heart is still going full throttle and his dick is... Well, it's happy to provide a standing ovation, as always, at the wrong fucking time.

He thinks of Nick again. Clean shaven, tailor suited Nick... Proud owner of a candy red porsche. Seriously - who owns a porsche other then retired old people who frequent country clubs and drink absurd amounts of splenda? ... Or early 1990's movie villains who always end up getting killed or caught because they end doing annoying monologues about victory before they're actually victorious, which almost always allows for the good guy to regain the upper hand? If they would just shut the fuck up and kill the protagonist already instead talking about their _plans_ to kill them...

Where was Dave going with that again? Right... Porsche or not, the dude had status. And he also had Kurt.

Then it happened... the light bulb moment.

"Hey Dave! Where are you going?"

"Danny lock the doors. I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't open the door for anybody!"

"Okay," she replies, a frown full of curious skepticism now marring her brow line.

He's outside on the porch, staring out at the neighborhood as if seeing it for the first time. It was quaint, but had a lot of nice trees and perfectly shaped shrubbery aligning the homes. That's something he's always appreciated about this neighborhood. Everyone did pretty well with maintaining their property. He steps away from the house, walking with long strides that eventually turn into a slow jog.

He feels the stitches start to burn in his chest after his pace becomes steady, but he won't stop. He has to push through, he has to run this off, regain a sense of himself. So he runs around the block, then makes it around twice.

Dave nearly collapses when he finally makes it home, Danny staring at him like he'd lost what was left of his adled mind.

"Did you just go running? For like - no reason?"

Dave opened the door to the refrigerator but then remembers that his Dad had thrown out what was left of his beer. He huffs and pulls out the jug of water, not bothering to get a glass as he chugs it straight from the container.

"Yeah, I think I just did," he answers with a smack of his lips, running his tongue over the beads of water still settled on his bottom lip.

"Okaaay, why?"

"It just felt like - the right thing to do, I guess."

"Remind me to never become an adult. You guys make _no_ sense."

"You'll get no argument from me kiddo," Dave said matter of factly. "Now move out of the way so I can get the meatballs going."

"Nope. I'll start them. You go shower. I'm scared your sweat'll get in the sauce."

Dave chuckles as he puts the water jug back in the fridge. He then gives her a mock military salute before turning to head out of the kitchen. A shower would be perfect, he thinks to himself as his hand rubs subconsciously over his beard.

Hm. His beard... Right.

He stomps up the stairs newly invigorated.

* * *

**A/N**: Some of you guys may have noticed but the spaghetti has become sort of a theme in this story, a parallel if you will, to Dave's acceptance of his Mom's death. Didn't start out that way, but it somehow became that way. No idea why, lol. Again, the joys of unplanned writing and plot development. Hope you guys enjoyed this one. I know it's getting a bit angsty but as I said before, I'm not a fan of the whole 'random encounter leads to fucking leads to being head over heels in love without getting to know each other' deal. I like smutty, but I like realistic too. Review please... thank you! PS: Don't be too mad at Kurt, Nick is just too fun for me to allow Kurt to be free of him now.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Dave had a bit of an epiphany last chap... let's see where it takes him shall we? And PS: **silje**, the smut is a comin'... I'm thinking next chap will bring a smile to your face, lol. Thanks for the support, as well as to everyone who's continued to review and give me feedback. Much love to you all. Review, comment, question, all are welcome and encouraged.

* * *

He counted. He always ended up counting by default; some automatic response to things that tended to become routinized.

It used to be things like how many days he could handle drinking decaffienated coffee in a row, or how many days he could drive in traffic blaring the same song in his car while singing himself stupid. Some occurences involved a more morbid ambience. For example, when he invited the challenge of seeing how long he could forgo having sex with Lisa without having to use more then two excuses the same night, or how many times he could drink whiskey from a flask hidden in his desk while maintaining an air of sobriety and pencil push his way through another stack of paperwork without needing multiple do-overs.

Fuck, he was an accountant. Numbers was what he knew, a comfortable proclivity that was safe and easy.

Yesterday was the ninth time he and Kurt had met up. The second time for their encounter to occur on a Thursday.

A blossoming habitual interaction that in so many ways was anything but habitual, anything but safe.

Sometimes it was impromptu meetings just before Kurt would go into work. Other times it was a random text battle that ended with Dave conceding to make time in between his gym excursions just to avoid being bitched at; a sacrifice he gladly made just to see Kurt smile up at him over a restaurant table or next to him on a park bench as they laughed at everything and nothing simultaneously.

It was like Dave had been baptized. Seriously... He wasn't religious by any means, but lately, he gets the feeling that this was what they talked about washing away your sins in a pool of gross water was supposed to feel like; not what he'd experienced when he was seven and was invited to tag along with a friend to sunday school and somehow managed being dunked by a boisterous preacher with a hugely grotesque cheek mole... He never did hang out with that kid again after that experience.

Lately he had just been feeling sort of... alive. Like resurfacing from the dank depths of a long forgotten swimming hole in some southern marshland and finally regaining his breath.

Dave had started working out; going to the gym daily, and jogging at night just before dusk. Dave had finally shaved his face bald too, no longer feeling the need to hide behind his face fuzz. It had served its purpose. Plus he liked the feel of smooth skin with a hint of stubble against his fingertips.

The craziest thing however, was the day he'd taken his Tercel to a used car dealership, and had come back with the car he'd dreamed of owning since he was sixteen... a 1969, Chevy SS Camaro. He remembers Kurt's quirked eyebrow and pursed lips at the sight of him pulling up in it...

_"What?" Dave prompts._

_"Could you be anymore cliche?"_

_"Could you be anymore ungrateful? I'm picking you up in style and that's all you have to say?"_

_Kurt's pouty lips form into a teasing smile._

_"1969. Good year."_

_"That's what they tell me. Your chariot awaits good sir."_

_Kurt rolls his eyes but Dave doesn't miss him chewing his bottom lip as he pulls open the door, a sure sign of Kurt's intrigue despite his attempt to appear indifferent._

_"So this is what a mid-life crisis looks like. I wonder what I'll buy when I have mine."_

_Dave simply laughs in response. He pictures a whole wardrobe of Wicked costumes placed strategically in an antique french armoire in order of character appearance. He smartly keeps the thought to himself however, enjoying Kurt's serene delight too much to ruin a good thing._

He'd even began hanging with Finn more, both men practically drooling over the chance to fix up the Camaro. Finn never asked Dave to pay him for labor and willingly ordered the extra parts free of charge, no matter how much Dave had insisted he pay. Hell, Dave wasn't hard up for money, not with the cash cow he'd gotten from officially selling his home and harboring his black mail money like a troll. But he was never one for hand outs, and Lisa hadn't hesitated in accusing him of being unusually uptight when it came to actually spending money; a penny pincher, she'd called him. He'd just considered himself a person of practicality, not materialism.

Dave suspects Finn's behavior is a direct reflection of wanting to make up for Dave's stint in a holding cell, a sense of misguided guilt still lingering... Neither man ever speaks of it though, and Dave just thinks the goofy bastard's an idiot for even remotely feeling that way, but again, he keeps it to himself.

Paul had provided Dave a few references for some small businesses looking for financial and accounting experience. Some sales positions or other randomly related cubicle promoting occupations. Dave however had managed to network the few times he'd attended Scandal's while waiting for Kurt to get off work for their beloved pancake run (the only time Dave noted that Kurt seemed to not complain about his carb intake), sipping water while chatting up the bar locals. Turns out one of the drag queens, Laurel by nightfall, was actually a Larry by day; a stocky gentleman with tan skin and crisp honey eyes who worked in landscape and contracting. Dave found himself to be happily employed a few days later. He thrived in the labor of it all. The heavy lifting, the strategizing and planning, the sweat, the accomplishment of seeing an idea come to fruition... he loved it, mostly because it wasn't crunching numbers over a desk.

Now that he doesn't have a choice between water and beer anymore, the normally bland, listless liquid somehow manages to be flavorful and actually quenching. He's been attending AA meetings regularly and as cynical as he'd been about the whole thing, he somehow finds that after the skepticism boils away, he'd successfully avoided alcohol for over three weeks.

That's longer than he's managed to do for over a year, easy.

Besides the bad coffee and stale donuts, which he secretly looked forward to at the meetings, he was more than pleasantly surprised on his fourth week to find a certain familiar, sassy blond man sitting near the front row, his legs crossed in a feminine manner, his eyes glassy as he clapped politely at the speakers disclosures.

Dave almost stood up to leave at the discovery, feeling pathetic and embarrassed at being potentially spotted, as this whole trying to 'not drink thing' was his own personal battle that no one else was allowed to know about, let alone be a part of.

But then, the lithe frame sporting a thin women's hoodie, spangled with an array of silver stars, a much more tamed haristyle then the usual messy, yet stylish blond faux hawk he was used to observing, stands up and begins addressing the audience from the front of the room.

"Hi everyone. I'm Ian. I was an alcoholic. I've been sober now for two years and four months."

The declaration was met by polite applause, Dave putting down his donut in order to join in.

"Even though I've been able to refrain from drinking, I'm not super human. The urges are always there. But coming here has helped me continue to stay strong and be committed to my sobriety, and I'm so happy to be able to volunteer my time as a sponsor these days. I know if it hadn't been for my sponsor, I would've lost the battle a long time ago." Ian pauses briefly, his eyes settling on Dave, who simply shrugs at being caught. Ian elicits a genuine smile at the gesture, and then quickly concludes his speech with an enthusiastic, "thank you."

When the meeting was officially dismissed, Dave is at the back near the snack table, slurping down his second cup of coffee.

"I almost didn't recognize you without your beard Yogi. Or should I start calling you Boo Boo, now?"

Dave smiles, staring at the thin build and twinkling eyes over his styrofoam cup.

"I didn't see you here the last few weeks."

"Well, last week I was being a pal, as you _pretend to be straight guys _supposedly put it, and took on another shift so Adam could leave early for his trip to Cancun. The first meetings, Randy the owner of Scandal's was visiting his mother and needed me to oversee till he got back. As amazing as I am, I haven't been able to master the ability to be in two places at once. Except with my tongue."

"I think Yogi will suffice. It's not as grating to my ears anymore anyway. And thanks for the image."

"You're welcome. You're also welcome for my other service."

"Um - wait - you didn't use your apparently magical tongue on any of my body parts when I was passed out at your apartment did you?"

"Sadly no."

"Okay then. Now I'm lost."

"Say hello to your new sponsor Yogi."

"Fuck," is all he can muster at this news, to which Ian only seems to beam harder.

When they're walking out to the parking lot side by side, Dave has to ask, even though he hates himself a little for it.

"Ian?"

"Yogi..."

"Er - I know this is kind of - I don't wanna put you in a weird position or anything - "

"You do realize how many places I could take that statement right?"

"Yeah. That was almost given to you on a silver platter. But seriously I - um - Could you keep _this _between us?" Dave declares nodding his head over at the small community center in the backdrop to indicate his exact meaning.

Ian sighs in a dramatic fashion. "I can. But I don't recommend it."

"What does it matter?"

"Well for starters, this is the kind of thing that requires support. Going it alone is almost like self sabotage. I understand that it can feel shameful at times but it's so important to have a support system to avoid temptation when it's at its worst. I mean, does your family know?"

"Sort of. I mean, my Dad knows. But it isn't really him I'm worried about..."

Ian eyes Dave carefully under his full eyelashes.

"Ah. Kurt," the blond deduces.

Dave looks away, his hands fidgeting slightly within their place inside his pockets.

"Yogi, you really shouldn't hide this from him."

"It's not hiding really. It's just, not necessary for him to know about this. It's personal, ya know?"

"Well call me crazy, but I happen to be one of those ethically sound martyr type people who still believe that with-holding the truth is just as bad as lying, and if you care about Kurt you'll give him the good, the bad, and the gay. He deserves to know all of you."

Dave huffs, his hands burrowing further into his pockets. "Fine. I'll tell him. Just not yet - okay? I need time to work at it for a bit. Please?" He hastily adds as he comes across Ian's subtle frown. Ian's scrutinizing gaze wanders past Dave, over the few remaining cars currently parked in the lot.

"Where's the bucket mobile?"

"Replaced by an actual car," Dave replies, his eyes providing overt implication as they linger on the Camaro.

"Wait - wait, wait, wait... No Yogi beard, some flashy replacement car, and a noticeable loss of fullness in those adorable cheeks of yours... Are you having a nervous breakdown?"

"You and Kurt are most _definitely _friends - "

"Okay. Not a break down then. Don't tell me Mr. Bear, that this is some stunt to out-do that Nick prick for Kurt's affections?"

Ian pauses, Dave looking slightly uncomfortable as he refrains from answering, his tongue feeling suddenly heavy. Ian always seemed to have a knack for cutting to the chase and immediately nailing the heart of the issue. Dave could truly respect it, if it wasn't somehow directed at him all the fucking time.

"Wait - it is, isn't it? Nick prick inspired all of this?"

"No! I wouldn't give the ass-tart the satisfaction. It's about me doing this for me..."

Ian supplies a wry grin, a hint of skepticism still oozing from his drawling gaze, but he fails to comment further. Dave is thankful for that... He'd never been much of a liar, at least not a good one anyway. Lisa could surely attest to that, and would've been the first to call him out on his shit.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Yay, smut! Also a little Blaine bashing. Sorry for any Klainers out there. Please read and review peeps! Many thanks. Also I don't own Starbucks or Denny's though I enjoy attending the latter for the awesomeness that is the French Slam every now and again.

* * *

It was Friday night. Late enough that it could technically be considered Saturday.

Dave rolls over at the sound of his cell phone vibrating loudly on the bed side table.

He squints at the call screen, his eyes working to adjust to the bright light, the white screen burning away the thick darkness enveloping his bedroom.

**_You awake? - K_**

Dave's eyes narrow impossibly thinner as they try to dechipher if he's still dreaming. He taps the keys, the clicking sound removing any sense of surrealism and revealing the stark truth: that he wasn't imagining this. And it was in fact half past two in the morning.

**_Yes. You okay? - D_**

There was a pregnant pause before another text lights up the screen in reply.

**_Can I see you? - K_**

Dave frowns, his fingers working quickly.

**_Fancy, are you okay? - D_**

Suddenly his phone sounds off, the ring tone that much more booming in the still air of the space, piercing the silence with a surging intensity. He slides his finger over the green icon hurriedly.

"Hey."

He thinks he hears sniffling on the other end.

"Kurt?" He tries again. The sniffling breaks up, the breathing coming in bursts of erratic release, until words are eventually formulated.

"I - I - I'm such - a fuckin' - i-idiot."

"Kurt, slow down okay? What's going on?"

Kurt takes a steadying breath and proceeds.

"I just - I don't know why I keep g-goin' back."

Going back? What the hell is he - Oh... Dave knows what, or rather _who_ he's referring to almost instantaneously. The image of a stupid square jawed douchebag formulates in his internal view.

"Kurt where are you?" He states firmly.

"Can I see you David?"

"Yeah, that's fine. But you have to tell me where you are so I can get you?"

"Outside your h-house. Sittin' on the curb like a pathetic, useless street urchin."

Startled at this unexpected turn, Dave hikes open his blinds only to see a figure who is indeed huddled on the curb, his black Navigator just out of reach of the street light.

"Come to the door but be quiet. The kid and Pops are asleep."

"Okay," Kurt breathily replies and then the call ends.

Dave slips on an undershirt and carefully descends the stairs, his bare feet barely audible as they melt into the plush carpet and he carefully treds toward the threshold of the front doorway.

Kurt is standing, or rather leaning against the door frame as Dave slowly pushes it open. Kurt doesn't hesitate to fling his arms around Dave and practically fuse into him.

"Shh. Okay. Alright. Let's go inside. Come on."

Dave is tempted to just scoop Kurt up and carry him bridal style up the staircase just to make the trip faster. Instead he manages to take Kurt's hand in his and guide him up the darkened path up the stairs and into his bedroom uneventfully.

Upon entry into the room, Kurt flops onto the bed, burying his head in the pillow. Dave, after softly clicking the door shut, quietly takes a seat at his computer desk as a precautionary measure... For what, he wasn't exactly sure. He just knew that it was nearly three in the morning and the object of his absolute deepest affection and lust filled desire was laying on his bed. He didn't want to take any chances.

"So you gonna tell me what happened Fancy?"

Kurt suddenly springs up, sitting poised with his blue eyes wide.

"You're lookin' at a moron, that's what happened."

Dave notices it then. The way Kurt's normal propriety and grace seems just a bit... off.

"Were you drinking?"

"Some wine. Jus' a little."

"And you drove?"

"I just - I needed - I had to leave. I needed to get away - "

"Yeah but not at the cost of you killing yourself Fancy. Jesus!" Dave hisses venomously.

"Forgive me oh great, perfectly fuckin' perfect man. Yeah, I drove, 'kay? Would you be so kind as to grant me your, oh so magnificent, fuckin' forgiveness? I gave you mine once."

"Keep your voice down. And stop it with that shit. Did he hurt you?"

"No. But you know who did? That fuckin' asshole, bow tie, chino pant wearin' bastard."

"Hobbit?"

"Yeah - the Hobbit. 'Least Nick _is_ what he is. He's a fuckin' prick through and through. But at least you know exactly what you're gettin', ya know? With Blaine... he pretended to be carin'... it was all on the surface. All the concern and romance. In the end he was jus' another selfish, self lovin' little homo, who cheats with the first guy to offer him a blow job outside of a fuckin' Starbucks. How tacky can you fuckin' get? A fuckin' _Starbucks_? Really? It might as well have been a Denny's."

"He cheated on you?"

Kurt nodded, the sly smirk looking mismatched when paired with his glistening eyes.

"He broke my heart David. He broke who I was." Kurt pauses then, the smirk melting away before he continues.

"Before him, I had enough self fuckin' worth to say fuck all and move forward... But I learned to rely on him... to rely on _us_, so much so, that I got lost. I was losin' myself. We were supposed to go to New York together. Have our whole lives pan out on the broadway stage. I noticed the distance between us as my graduation came closer. Eventually he admitted it a week before I left, after countless arguments, bitch fests, and constant denial... He gave _us, _what we were supposed to have, up for a Starbuck's BJ. Still blows my mind - no pun intended. I didn't tell anyone about it."

Kurt laughs darkly. "Still protected him after all that. I didn't want people to think less of him. We just drifted apart I'd say, we wanted different things, or the distance was just too much. It sounded much better than him just fuckin' gettin' tired of me and shovin' his dick elsewhere. And Nick is - he's - "

"A fucking prick through and through as you so helpfully put it - "

"But he keeps me company. And I like the attention. I'm stupid for it, I know, but I can't help but want it anyway."

Dave grows quiet, his eyes fixated on Kurt's frame as the question eventually leaves his lips.

"What happened tonight Kurt?"

Kurt stares directly at Dave, his soft eyes gleaming through the darkness.

"I'm not his wife."

Dave is bemused by this exclamation. He waits...

"I just realized that I don't like suckin' the same cock that's supposed to be hers... That maybe'll even give her his children one day. I used to not feel anything... I didn't care... But now... I'm just tired I guess."

Dave leans forward in the chair, his gaze constant despite his compromised posture.

"I've never felt more like a whore than I did tonight," Kurt admits, his voice slightly broken, the tears discernable by the tint of moonlight escaping into the room, illuminating a portion of the man's porcelain skin.

"He fucked me behind the fuckin' bar - didn't even bother for a motel. Just pushed me up against a crate, right near the dumpster... I should've found it hot... But I couldn't help but think - Wow - Blaine did the same thing all those years ago, 'cept now I'm the trick this time around... What the f-fuck is wrong with me?"

And Kurt collapses into tears, crumbling under the weight of his confession.

As much as Dave wants to comfort him, he pauses, thinking selfishly of his own feelings; that holding Kurt on the same exact bed where he'd fantasized about him maybe hundreds of times before, even rubbed out a fair few over this same image - minus the crying of course - would prove too much for him. But his heart wins over the innate thoughts of lust, his desire to just make Kurt feel better more significant than his concern over the staggering temptation.

He sits on the bed and pulls Kurt to him, locking his arms securely around him, Kurt leaning on his broad shoulder while returning the embrace. He doesn't dare allow his fingers to card through the brunette locks, or brush against the milky skin of his face... He just holds him. He _has_ to just hold him.

Minutes drag, but each passing second fills Dave up with a satisfied sense of what perfection probably feels like as he continues holding him tightly. He barely notices when Kurt's head tilts away from him, but God, then he feels it... Kurt is tenderly kissing his throat. Dave groans, and stiffly pulls back.

"K-Kurt, what are you doing?"

The other man doesn't answer, his eyes alight with hunger as he moves back in to trail wet kisses over Dave's neck, up his jaw, and then his hands cup Dave's face, holding him in place as Kurt dives in to attack his lips.

Kurt is running his tongue over Dave's clamped mouth, attempting to garner a reaction, to gain access in order to continue this forceful battle with a desparate tangle of tongues. Dave finds his hands are now holding Kurt's hips. He's not sure if it's to keep them from ripping at Kurt's clothes or simply to secure the dynamo in place, keep him from doing anything more explicit.

Dave considers it an epic fail on his part when Kurt manages to twist from his grip and is now straddling him, raining firing kisses over his face, Dave stifling a gutteral moan from escaping at the feel of Kurt's erection now pressing into his thigh.

"K-Kurt. C'mon - don't do this."

"Please Dave. I need this - I need you," he moans out.

Oh sweet merciful Grilled Cheesus...

And then he's responding, his fingers digging into Kurt's sides, his mouth finally opening as Kurt pushes him down on the bed, still straddling him. Dave knows his own chubby is seriously aching at the pressure, now jutting against Kurt's backside.

Kurt sits up suddenly, his blue eyes completely lust blown as he pulls his shirt over his head, a daring smirk returning immediately as he stares down at Dave.

How many times had Dave dreamt of this same exact position? This same fucking moment hidden behind his irises, kept safe and wholly for himself to jerk off to in the privacy of this same stupid room...

There's an underlying tenderness just barely recognizable through Kurt's lustful gaze... It's then that Dave knows this has to end...

Dave sits up now, his broader body pressing against Kurt, the other man obliviously grinning, his lips puckering against Dave's lips with less ferocity, more care.

"Kurt. I don't want to do this with you. I can't - not while your drunk - and upset. It isn't right."

How he was capable of getting the words out, he has no idea... Maybe his now regular use of the term grilled cheesus has actually created a relationship between him and Finn's caricature of a God who instilled him with a sense of will power he never knew he possessed.

Kurt ignores him as he continues pressing his lips firmly over Dave's, his arms linked over Dave's shoulders. Dave finally grabs at Kurt's arms, removing them from around himself as he manages to slide Kurt from his lap.

"Stop! Okay? We can't Kurt - not like this. You're - you're worth more to me than... _This_," he gestures between the two of them, the heat that had been swelling between their bodies slowly but surely searing away as he stands up to distance himself from the gravitating pull that was Kurt.

If looks could obliterate your hard-on, this one, Kurt's current wide-eyed, saddened expression took the fucking cake.

"You don't want me?" Kurt states flatly. His monotone voice is impassive, but still cuts into Dave like a knife.

"Kurt you have no idea - I... I want you. God - so much."

It hits Dave then - the truth he'd been denying since his newfound desire for self fulfillment had overtaken him and led him to a proactive journey of self improvement. He doesn't just want Kurt that way, he wants him in every way. But his need to be better, doesn't feel solidified in the form of a blue eyed beauty. He's starting to think that he wants it for himself... Just maybe... Kurt deserved someone great, but for all the right reasons.

Kurt fucking Hummel wanted _him_, Dave Karofsky... All of the years of longing and day dreaming had culminated into this moment... And all he wanted to do was make sure the dude was safe and didn't hate him too much when he did was he was about to do. Damn... He really was a homo wasn't he? Being all emotional and leading with your heart and blah fucking blah... What a gaylord.

"Not this way Kurt. Please, please understand. It's not because I wouldn't. It's truly because I shouldn't. Now I'm gonna lay you down, tuck you in, then I'm gonna hit the couch downstairs so you can sleep it off, 'cause you aren't driving. And trust, I will toss your keys into the neighbors bushes if it comes to that."

Kurt is avoiding his gaze, his fingers slowly untangling themselves from Dave's neutral colored comforter. Finally he looks up at him, a few tears spiraling down his cheek as he nods.

"Okay. I'm gonna come over to you now."

Dave steps forward, and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away the salty trail from Kurt's face. He then pulls up the covers, and Kurt burrows underneath, settling against the pillows looking thoroughly drained; like the attack button had been switched off leaving him in a state of a vulnerable quiescence. He dips down and places a chaste kiss on Kurt's forehead.

"Good night, Fancy."

"David?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you - will you stay with me for a while. Till I fall asleep? Please."

Dave sighs, then nods his conceit, seating himself on the edge of the bed. He deeply wants to do much more than just sit. But his inner compromise results in him simply running his thick digits gently through Kurt's brunette strands.

After a while, Kurt's breathing deepens and he displays the tell tale signs of succumbing to sleep. Dave reluctantly pulls his hand away, wondering how something as innocent as sifting through Kurt's locks and caressing his face could feel as intimate as any kiss.

As he softly closes this bedroom door behind himself, he thinks that maybe this new Dave is actually capable of saying the right thing, providing selfless words that literally pain him to express, but are what the other person maybe needs more than he needs to protect his own ego. New Dave, despite his past of being prone to lying to elicit a sense of comfort in others, can provide truths to others even if it means losing them.

He thinks of his Mother, and wonders if he indeed has more of her in him then he'd originally thought. He hopes she's proud.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Sorry it's been a little while. This is a short one but as a bonus I have another chap directly following this one that I just finished up. We get a dose of some Danny in the next few so enjoy! And kindly bless me with your words and thoughts.

* * *

Dave was making coffee, the aroma beginning to waft tantalizingly throughout the kitchen, when a voice brought him out of his silent musings.

"Morning."

He turns to find Paul Karofsky in his familiar deep navy robe with white trim around the collar, holding out a small piece of paper.

"Morning," he responds, a curious disposition as he eyes his Father.

"Um - I - found this. It was on your bed."

"Oh."

So, Kurt was gone. Dave had just awakened himself, after just barely managing to fall sleep on the couch. He wanted to give the fashionista time to wake up and maybe have some breakfast ready... well, if anything at least some coffee.

Paul walks over, stony-eyed, and a hint of a scowl present as he hands the paper over.

_Thanks for last night. It meant a lot. Call you later._

_- Kurt_

Fuck.

Dave's jaw may have come unhinged. He turns the paper over, realizing that Kurt had penned the message on the back of a receipt... _The Charity Bar_... probably the place Nick and he had their little sexcapade. He stops catching flies when he vaguely registers his Dad clearing his throat.

"So, Kurt was here last night then?"

"Um - yeah - he was. He, er - needed to crash for a bit. I asked him to so he wouldn't have to drive tired."

"Hm. Well... I'd rather you not have people over at a later hour like that. Period. Your sister doesn't need to have that around."

"Sure."

Paul takes a seat at the table, his dark eyes trained on Dave.

"Smells good. Can I trouble you for a cup?"

"Yeah. Just a couple spoons of sugar right?"

"Yep," Paul answers shortly.

Dave goes back to making the coffee, the silence ensuing between the two men; the clinking of the spoon against the inside of the cup as he stirs the only sound permeating the ballooning tension.

"Those flowers - they were really nice," his father comments out of the blue.

Dave is done with the coffee, but doesn't dare turn around to face him. He simply continues to feign stirring, his back facing the curious constitution that was Paul Karofsky.

"Mmhm," he conceded non-committally.

"Danny tells me that Kurt brought those. For you, as I understand it."

Recognizing that he couldn't be standing there stirring forever, he takes that moment to turn and approach Paul, hoping that his expression appears somewhat non-chalant, handing over his Dad's coffee and plunking down in the chair opposite.

"Yeah. Um - he said he wasn't sure what to bring me after, er - when I got hurt, so - there you have it."

"They _were_ beautiful. Your Mom would've liked them."

Dave looks up in utter disbelief at his Dad. Paul seems to be far away, staring at the spot the flowers had once been in a detached manner.

Paul Kaforsky hadn't mentioned his Mother intentionally for what felt like years.

Paul blinks, catching Dave's eye and returning to a neutral temperament, dispelling any notion that he had indeed warmed slightly when lost in thoughts of Dave's mother.

"We never talked about what happened by the way."

"About what?" _Shit, shit shit..._

Paul sips from his coffee, smacking his lips, then proceeds coolly. "That night... When I had to take a field trip ending in me being five hundred dollars shorter."

Dave swallows his coffee, knowing that the non-chalance he was attempting was likely strained and distorted looking at this point.

"Right. I mean - there isn't much to say. I got into it with some guys and - you know, was arrested."

Paul's eyes narrow over his coffee cup. "What did Kurt have to do with it?"

"Nothing. Well, not really. Just some guys were hassling him and I - um - I tried to step in."

"You did more than try."

"I wasn't gonna let him try to fight off five guys by himself just because they decided to be homophobic assholes," he retorted defensively.

"I remember when that used to be you."

Dave hesitates, anger beginning to flare within him.

"What? A homophobic asshole?"

"No. Just the one who was picking on him. There was once a time when I had to plead with a damn school board to let you back into McKinley over your issues with that boy, you remember that? I guess a lot's changed since then."

"What are you getting at Pops?"

"Nothing. Just - that irony can really be a funny thing."

"I don't get it. You always pride yourself on doing the right thing, being an honest, and loyal man. You act like it's a bad thing for me to be friends with him now. Would you rather me go back to treating him like shit just for old times sake?"

"David, you're misunderstanding me. I just - Kurt is different - he always has been. You should just be careful about what he's expecting from the friendship. That's all."

_And there we have it, _Dave thinks candidly to himself.

"You think he's trying to seduce me or something? Are you serious right now?"

"Look, I just think - "

"Morning."

Both men look up to the see the tosseled head and sleepy eyes gazing curiously at them.

"Hey kiddo. Sorry I didn't get a chance to throw on anything. Do you want oatmeal or cereal?"

"I'll settle for cereal - and I can get it," she exclaims as Dave had moved to stand up. He returns to his seat, staring back over at his Dad while his sister busied herself with pouring her breakfast.

"I was thinking - do you think that Kurt would want to come over for dinner tonight?"

Paul's dark eyes volley between the two figures, questioning and yet slightly put out.

"Um - I don't know kid. I can call him and see if he's working tonight. _Dad_?"

Dave couldn't help but glare daggers at his Dad, an air of satisfied sarcasm oozing from the last word.

"I - er - I don't see why not sweetie. I may arrive a little late but I think it should be fine."

"Cool."

Danny catches Dave's eye and shoots him a conspiratorial smile. He can't help but smile over his coffee cup in return.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **And it's dinner time at the Karofsky's. Let's see what unfolds shall we? I love reviews. Please and thank you.

* * *

Kurt probably wouldn't appreciate the carbs involved in this meal, but would no doubt love the idea of being cooked for so much, he'd take one for the team. Danny had gone out of her way to create a simple dish of fettucine alfredo with a side of salad, Dave standing idely by to supervise.

Danny thought it would be a fun idea to dress up for the occasion, hence her dark dress shirt and too big bow tie that belonged to their Dad.

Dave opted to wear a crisp white dress shirt, paired with a dark gray suit jacket and dark washed jeans. He'd had to get the thing adjusted to tailor fit his trimmer form, but felt like the effort was well worth it when he considered the appreciative once over from a pair of clear blue eyes upon answering the door.

"Neanderthal."

"Fancy."

"You look - quite polished. I'd say handosome, but I wouldn't want it to go to your head in case this is a fluke. I didn't think working in landscape could do such wonders for one's fashion sense."

"Best kept secret among us contractors and labor types. Well, that and hanging around a certain connoisseur of all things male and fashion definitely helps."

"Too true. So are you going to invite me in?"

"Nope. I'm just gonna tell you to get your ass in here."

"It's moments like these that I pat myself on the back for naming you so well."

"Right. Give me your coat before I strangle you with it."

"Your charm truly astounds me," Kurt titters, removing his silver sheened coat and handing it over.

Danny approaches the two and stands poised with her hands behind her back.

"Dinner will be served in the dining area. If you gentlemen would allow me to escort you."

Kurt is staring wide eyed, looking over at Dave for some sort of explanation. All he can manage is a shrug of the shoulders.

"After you," he smiles, nodding after his sister's retreating frame. Kurt sighs with an amused expression and canters after her.

They had been eating, laughing, and genuinely enjoying each others company for a considerable amount of time; Dave slightly awed at how natural it felt.

It was sort of rare for his sister to be as smiley and open as she'd been with someone outside of their family, but here she was, laughing, joking, and talking excitedly about things including her desire to explore music on a more inclusive level... something she hadn't even shared with Dave actually.

"Wait you what?"

"I've got this program on my comptuer, a DJ simulation station. It's kinda generic, but I'm able to create some pretty cool mixes. I'm getting better at transitioning - I mean, blending, too."

"Huh. No idea you were doing that. That's pretty cool kid."

"Definitely," Kurt chimed in. "Creative outlets are essential to your emotional growth and sense of self worth. Without Glee club, Gaga knows where I would've been."

"Davey, why didn't you ever join?"

"What - Glee club?"

She nodded, sliding a bite of salad into her mouth. Kurt caught his eye, a tentative smile carrying the weight of years of past turmoil laced with sympathy at the inquiry.

"Yeah. You always sing in the shower and in the car and stuff. You're pretty good. You even said you did that mash-up thing, you know? The Thriller performance in front of the school."

Dave swallows down a sizable gulp of water, his discomfort amplifying.

"Um - well, I was - er - pretty busy with football and hockey. Just didn't have the time, I guess."

Kurt remains quiet, busying himself with digging into his plate.

"Oh. Well, if you weren't in Glee, how did you guys become friends?"

Dave feels the guilt squirming, Kurt now coughing as he attempts to slurp at his water glass, his actions a clear cut sign of avoidance. Danny's gaze volleys between the two of them, concern growing just behind the thick lenses.

The sound of the door slamming shut and a loud voice booming into the space interrupts their dwelling conversation.

"Hey guys. I'm home."

Paul Karofsky enters the dining area, brief case in hand, tugging at the knot in his tie.

"Hello, Kurt. Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too Mr. Karofsky."

"Please. You can call me Paul. We're all adults here. Well, almost," he stated while shooting Danny a playful wink. She rolls her eyes but hands him the bowl of fettucine as he joins them at the table.

"Wow sweetie. So you put this together, huh?"

"Yeah, she did," Dave jumps in. "It's really good too."

"Good to know. So what did I miss?"

All three remained quiet, causing Paul to look up from dishing out food onto his plate.

"Don't all go at once."

Dave clears his throat and speaks, "Um - not much, just talking about high school."

Paul looks a bit startled at this revelation. "Really?"

"Yeah. I was just wondering when Davey and Kurt were friends with each other."

"Oh. Hm." Paul mumbles, taking a long drag from his water.

The tension had grown ten fold.

"Well Danny. David and I, we - um - we weren't exactly... We didn't really get to know each other until later on. After high school."

Paul shakes his head as he aggressively takes a bite of his fettucine.

"Oh. So, what about during high school then?"

Dave felt his throat constrict, his hazel eyes searching Kurt, his struggled expression mirrored back at him from across the table.

"They didn't really get along sweetie," Paul interjected, his scrutinizing glare pelting back and forth between the two men who seemed to have swallowed their tongues under the increasing tension engulfing the table.

"What?"

"Not exactly, no," Dave explains quietly.

"Really? So what do we call being expelled for making threats? And if I recall correctly, you left school for a while yourself because of it, right Kurt?"

"What? What do you mean?" Danny's small voice questions.

"Nothing Danny. Never mind it -"

"Come on now boys. It's a part of your history right? You shouldn't try to cover it up or lie about it."

"Davey?"

Dave looks over at Danny, the guilt overwhelming every piece of his being. He hated the look on her face.

"We had some _issues_, true, but it worked out in the end. It's nothing to dwell on," Kurt tries, his blue eyes seeping with a desparate sadness despite his easy going declaration.

"Over what? Why?"

Paul is staring directly at Dave... As if challenging him. There had only been a few times in his life that he'd ever wanted to hit his Dad. This occasion was easily turning into the number one contender for first place amongst his memories.

"I was - I had some problems in high school kiddo. I was angry and confused. I just - I made a lot of bad decisions. I - um - I used to be a bully. I'd go out of my way to make life miserable for certain people. And Kurt - Kurt was one of my main targets."

Danny's eyes are shining behind her glasses, suddenly overlybright. She was looking at Dave as if she'd never seen him before; like she had no clue who he was... Dave almost about died at the pure disappointment glaring in those warm orbs.

"You - you used to b-bully him?"

All Dave could manage was a miniscule nod, and a murmured, "I've never been more sorry about anything."

"Even more then drinking yourself into un-employment and ruining your marriage?"

Dave stood up from the table, his fists balled at his sides.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"Don't you dare speak to me that way David!"

Danny looks away, her shoulders slumping forward as if she was crushing in on herself.

"E-excuse me."

"Danny! Wait!"

She ignores Dave's pleas and escapes up the stairs, her bedroom door slamming shut, sounding much too similar to a cannon blast in the silence billowing between the three men left at the table.

"I think I'd better go. Mr. Karofsky," Kurt states coolly and retreats toward the front door.

Dave watches him disappear, his eyes instantly returning to glare holes into his Father who was casually taking a bite from his fork, portraying an impressive aloofness, prompting Dave to want to jump over the table.

Dave marches past him and catches up with Kurt as he's gathering his coat from the coat rack by the door.

"Kurt - I don't - I don't even know what to say. I don't know what got into him -"

Kurt holds up his hand for silence, smiling sadly at him.

"Please make sure to thank Danny for me. The meal really was wonderful."

Dave nods, emulating the same tired smile. Kurt reaches over and kisses his cheek.

"Don't you dare, not even for a second, David Karofsky, think that I'm still holding onto that. No more hate, no more sadness, no more guilt. Okay?"

Dave moves to speak but Kurt puts his finger over his lips, again silencing him.

"All I need for you to do is nod, Neaderthal."

"But about the other stuff - about the drinking, I -"

"David. Just nod."

Dave sighs heavily, puts up his hand in a perfect boy scout salute, then nods.

"I'll call you. Good night, David."

"Night Fancy."

Then Kurt's gone, leaving Dave to wallow in the aftermath of this horrendous conflict spurned on by his Dad of all people. He knows if he goes back inside, returns to face his Dad at the moment, he's going to lose it... Do something irrevocably stupid. So he too, heads out the front door, then seats himself on the porch, leaning back in order to take in the sky; the stars twinkling as if directly mocking him.

The Navigator is already missing, but the lingering feelings left behind by it's driver remain as present as if he still was there. Kurt... Eloquent, mannerable, and a consumate gentlemen in the face of the worst situations. Dave's admiration and absolute adoration for the man continuing to swell with every discussion, interaction, text, and word had between them.

Dave hadn't been sitting there long when the front door opens.

He scowls up at his Father, then returns his gaze up at the stars, hoping that he'd get the hint and just leave him the hell alone.

"I take it that you have something to say to me?"

Nope. Apparently he couldn't read body language very well. That or he just didn't give a fuck and was on a mission to drum this thing up until Dave couldn't take it.

"Not really. I think you already said enough for the both of us."

"What? All I did was speak the truth. Danny deserves to know the truth about your history with that boy -"

"Maybe. But not like that Dad. Jesus, how fuckin' crass and cold can you get?"

"I told you not to speak to me that way! I'm still your Father and you'd better remember that -"

"Then try acting like it then!" Dave shouts while standing up to face him. "Instead of tearing me down in front of my guests or making me out to be lower then a piece shit scraped off your boot heel in front of my sister. What are you hoping to teach her pulling that kind of shit?"

"That honesty and truth is the best way to live your life, that's what -"

"What the hell are you talking about? It's like you're on some special crusade of truth telling at other people's expense. At your fuckin' kids expense -"

"Everything you've done Dave has been on your own merit. Don't you dare blame me for what you've gotten yourself into!"

"What? What is it that I've gotten into?"

"Where do I begin, son? Hell, you've become a bar fighting, drunk with no ambition, and a strong desire to sabotage any sort of committed relationship you could've had to your own selfish crap!"

"I'm fuckin' trying here, okay. I stopped drinking. I've been going to meetings. I'm working again. I even got that fuckin' car. What else is it that I need to do? When is what I do ever gonna be good enough?"

"Nobody asked you to buy that damn car-"

"Do you really think I give two shits about this stupid fuckin' car? It's just another thing to add to the hundreds of things I've done to be better for you, and everybody fuckin' else!"

Paul is breathing heavily, his stance rigid and eyes burning.

"Is this - is this about him? That, Kurt?"

And it was then that Dave realized what this was all about. His heart felt heavy, full of an augmented despair slowly coursing through him. Suddenly he feels deflated, like he just doesn't care anymore. The words come to him. It's actually ironic how easily they seem to formulate after so many years of well practiced denial.

"It's always been about him, Dad. Always..."

"You don't mean that David -"

"Every word," he breathes, his eyes stinging.

Paul is silent, averting Dave's eye. Then suddenly he hisses, "Maybe you ought to leave. Sort some things out..."

Dave feels broken. His heart clenching painfully. He stalks away, suddenly inspired to display his myriad of emotions, he enters the garage which had been left open when his Dad had parked inside of it earlier. He snags an old baseball bat, huddled together with a bunch of his former hockey sticks from his high school days, out from the corner.

"David, what are you doing?"

Dave traipses past him toward his recently waxed and neatly impeccable, 69' Camaro, and lifts the bat.

"Stop, don't -"

The crash is loud as he knocks out the driver's side window, then crushes the front wind shield with several consecutive blows. He proceeds to knock off the side mirror and bash the door.

Paul stands back, horrified as Dave wails on his once beautiful automobile, pulverizing the exterior with powerful strikes.

"Davey! Stop! Stop Davey!"

He looks up at the sound of his sister's voice, his breath coming in quick succession as he takes in her tear streaked face. Paul is holding Danny by the shoulders, keeping her in place.

"Go! NOW!" Paul bellows.

Dave lets the bat fall from his grip, somewhat astonished at his own actions.

"No! Dave!"

"I don't want you back here," Paul states acidly, Danny crying in his arms as he holds her struggling form back, her hands desparately reaching toward her brother.

"Please - don't! Dave, don't go! Don't make him go Dad! Please!"

Dave begins to advance backwards, his eyes brimming with angry tears.

"I'm so sorry kid. I love you," and he turns and treads away, not sure where he's going, but sure that something between him and his Dad has snapped, prehaps forever.

The last thing he hears are his sister's desparate screams echoing into the night as he tramps down the block, and away from his childhood home.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** I think some happier exchanges are in order after all that drama. Enter the friendliest twink of them all... Oh, and please supply me up with some of your thoughts. Many thanks!

* * *

He was steadily peeling the label off of his too warm beer when he was joined by a dainty blonde man with a grim expression etched on his face.

They sit quietly, neither speaking as the din of the environment encloses around them, swallowing them up in bursts of raucous laughter, clinking glasses, and dissonant words echoing into an incomprehensible racket.

Finally the blonde issues a side long glance, his expression muted.

"Is that your first?"

Dave nods, the gesture almost looking like a spasm.

"Did you drink any?"

Dave lifts the bottle as in answer, completely filled to the top with the untainted brew.

Ian breathes a sigh of relief, and turns himself slightly so as to more directly face the hulking figure practically melting into the bar with obvious defeat.

"Do you want to tell me why we're here and I'm getting a call in the middle of the night, Yogi?"

Dave is still working on peeling at the label, the words suddenly spitting forth from him like they tasted of rotted meat.

"I'm pretty sure I just got kicked out, my Dad hates me, and the feeling isn't far from mutual."

"Why would he hate you?"

"Because I'm just some huge fuckin' screw up to him. Not to mention I all but kicked my own closet door open tonight."

"Well that's replacable right? Nothing a few bucks can't fix."

Dave scowls at Ian.

"Joking. So you told him that you were gay?"

"Not exactly. But I kinda sort of told him about my - um - feelings for Kurt... Sort of."

Ian clapped Dave's shoulder, letting his hand settle into a gentle grasp.

"That can be deemed pretty gay in hindsight."

"That - and I sort of, broke apart my car with a baseball bat."

"An image of sex appeal that gives me shivers. But probably not so much for your Father. Understandable -"

"God, and Danny... She looked at me like I was the devil reincarnated. She never knew how much of an asshole I was back then. Not entirely. She must think I'm complete shit right now -"

"Key words Yogi. _Right now_. This all just happened a few hours ago. You have to allow for a healthy time lapse in between. Give yourselves time to make sense of things before just writing each other off."

"I just - I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I don't know what I'm gonna do, Ian."

Dave slumps forward, his forehead resting against the glass of his full bottle, eyes sliding closed of their own accord. Ian removes his hand from Dave's broad shoulder and straightens up.

"I'll tell you what you're going to do. First you're going to relinquish your paws from around this bottle -" Ian takes liberty to releave Dave of the bottle and pushes it aside - "then you're going to pick up your lip and stop moping before my penis shrivels inside itself like a turtle from the clear lack of testosterone - get your ass up, and come home with me."

"I literally don't have anything except the clothes on my back and a few dollars."

"Puh-lease Yogi. I've brought men over with _much_ less."

Dave shakes his head. He can't help the small smile creeping across his lips at the familiar suggestiveness in Ian's words; a genial comfort enveloping him despite the deep seated note of grief underlying the surface, waiting to erupt and bubble over.

"Well then, oh genius sponsor extraordinaire - I take it you'll be chauffeuring me?"

"No. But I will be giving your stocky ass a ride. It's the least I can do as your sponsor after all."

Dave sighs, a little bit of the tension exuding from him as he stands and gestures for Ian to lead the way.

"After you Blondie."

"Damn straight. Oh - well, you know what I mean."

Neither mentioned how desparately close Dave had come to giving into drinking. Perhaps the occasion served as another example of things better left unsaid.

* * *

Dave was sweating. A lot.

His gray t-shirt, which he'd long since rolled up the sleeves to, was damp. Committing your time outdoors in this weather just didn't make for a sweat-free experience. Landscaping could truly be a beast. So could the public bus. He couldn't wait to take a shower.

He had found a steady rhythm at his current locale. He'd managed to sneak back to his Father's and grab his phone (thankfully he'd memorized Ian's number beforhand out of boredom, or rather fear of his addiction if he was being honest), his wallet, and a couple of clothing items. He ended up having to re-purchase all of his toiletry items. Ian had even offered to make him a key just to forgo the annoyance of having his day time naps interrupted. Dave had refused at first, but eventually, after several days of experiencing an annoyed Ian, he decided his pride took a back seat to Ian's bitchiness.

As he pushed the door open, his eyes widened at the sight of the two men bent over... tight stretchy pants leaving nothing to the imagination, pale skin and soft features and - oh shit! Damn his easily aroused man parts...

Ian spotted him from between his own legs, his face upside down and his eyes twinkling mischievously as he says, "thought you were getting home later, Yogi?"

Kurt's cheeks tinge with pink as he stands up, his eyes wide with equal surprise.

"Um - I thought I told you I had an earlier shift today?"

"Oh. Perhaps. Silly me. I keep mixing up the days."

"Hey," Kurt smiles over at him, a towel in his grip as he glides toward Dave. Dave wasn't sure if that was a unitard or just a sinfully tight cotton shirt that was adorning his enticing frame. Hell, who cared? All he knew is that he couldn't unfasten his eyeballs from the sight.

"Hummel," he grins back. "So this is how you keep Nick coming back, huh?"

Kurt rolls his eyes and hands Dave the towel.

"Can it Neanderthal. And here - you need it way more than I do."

Dave takes the towel with a mumbled, "thanks," and proceeds to wipe himself down, starting with his face and neck.

"And besides, I haven't spoken to Nick in weeks."

"Oh. Really?"

"Really!" Ian yells from his current pretzel like position on the floor. Kurt's blush deepens. And was Dave crazy, or had Kurt just been ogling his arms? Kurt shakes his head and seems to re-focus his gaze on Dave's face.

"As Ian so helpfully reports, yes - I've been Nick free for a while now."

"Hm. Well, can't say I'm sad to hear that. He was the hole between the cheeks, that one."

"Crass. But accurate," Kurt concedes.

"The fact that you used the word accurate... S'pretty hilarious. The whole asshole thing plus that term - makes me think of a target -"

"And yet you were convinced you weren't gay."

"I know, right?" Ian pipes in, his body pressing to the side as he stretched, his thin build showcasing his ribs prominently as he was comfortably shirtless. "Yogi's a skyscraper of a fag. That whole, 'look at my enourmous arm muscles, and my flannel shirts in the summer time, drinking my water from a manly mug instead of a cup' crap is such a scam. I caught him drinking coffee... wait for it... with his pinky up the other day."

Kurt guffaws, his eyes shining with amusement.

"No -"

"Yes."

"I'm sort of still standing here -"

"And he tried to act like his little pinky wasn't as a erect as I get watching an episode of Jonie Loves Chachi when he wears the red bandana."

"Whatever! The mug was hot -"

Apparently the owner of the mug was just as flaming," Ian sing songs, sending Kurt into a giggle fit.

"Alright, ladies. I'm gonna shower. So you two can have some practice at talking about me when I'm _not_ in the room."

"Actually-" Kurt states with watery eyes, hiccupping himself back under control. "I'm going to head out."

"You sure?" Dave questions, failing to hide his disappointment he was sure, but not exactly caring at the moment.

"Yeah. I'm heading over to Finn and Amy's. Doing the family dinner thing."

Kurt seems to get shy at the mention of the occasion. Dave was sure it had everything to do with what had happened at his Dad's. Sure he'd spoken to Kurt on the phone since then, but Kurt hadn't failed to imply his sense of responsibility at what had happened despite Dave's insistance of the opposite.

"Um - I guess this would be the wrong time to mention that I sort of need the apartment to myself," Ian remarks.

"What?"

Ian stands up and rolls his neck. "I'm expecting company so you're going to have occupy yourself elsewhere Yogi."

Dave nods in understanding. "That's cool. I'll probably just catch a flick or something. Grab a hotel room."

"No. You won't. Not when you can come with me."

Dave looks over at Kurt. "For dinner?"

"Why not?"

"Er - let me count the ways -"

"If you're nervous about my Dad being there he's out of town with Carol. It's just going to be Finn and his clan."

Dave grips each end of the towel draped over his neck. "You sure?"

"Positive. I owe you a do-over. Plus you know you want to spend time with your long lost football brother."

Dave smirks at the comment. Finn had definitely become one of his closer friends since his return to Lima. Ask him a year ago if he would've ever foreseen that happening and he would've laughed himself stupid. That or drank until it became less so.

"Yeah. Not to mention I'll get to finally meet the woman that's managed to rain him in -"

"And put up with his unique Finn qualities," Kurt adds.

"You have to admit - it is hard to resist the Finn grin."

"Don't I know it. So should I pick you up?"

"Nope." Ian intervenes after a moment of quietly observing the exchange. "I'll gladly chaffuer the bear. What time do you want him?"

"Seven. Promptly. Amy's a stickler for punctuality."

"Done. Till next yoga session my little Kurtie."

"Of course. Gentlemen," Kurt bids, then gathers up his petite gym bag and saunters toward the door.

"Hey Kurt."

The brunette turns with his hand still squeezing the door handle.

"Your towel?"

He grimaces. "Keep it. Actually just - keep it far, far away from me."

Dave rolls his eyes when Kurt exits, the brunette's chuckling bursting forth just as the door slides closed.

Dave looks over at Ian, who is not so innocently picking at his finger nails, avoiding Dave's glare.

"So... Nooow you wanna be my chauffeur."

Ian beams at him, but says nothing as he retreats past Dave. Suddenly the sound of the shower coming on awakens Dave from his hazed stupor.

"You conniving little twink," Dave yells out as he marches to the back of the apartment to intervene and grab his shower first.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Hudson-Hummel dinner time. I know some of you guys may have PTSD from the last dinner occasion but don't fret, there won't be any family break ups. Honest.

**Disclaimer:** As I always do I mention random pop culture shit (the _Dog whisperer_,_ Jonie loves Chachi_ - for anyone who knows who Scott Baoi actually is, a _Bring It On_ and _Harry Potter_ reference, Facebook, etc, etc). Don't own none of it son!

* * *

It takes Dave all of fifteen minutes to decide that he loves Amy. She's a breath of fresh air in terms of being surrounded by so much testosterone as of late.

She was pleasant and accommodating, but had the air of someone who would run you through with a kitchen knife if pushed too far, despite her mousy, rather delicate frame. Dave honestly liked that.

"Dave, please try some more of the scallops. I'm not afraid to say that I did them complete justice."

"You always do," Finn speaks through a mouthful of food.

"Finn - chew, please."

"Sorry," he mumbles. Jamie rolls her eyes at her Dad's antics but smiles, as if this was a regular occurence between her parents that left her highly amused more than annoyed.

Dave chuckles as he scoops a healthy portion onto his plate.

"You're more than finding your knack sis," Kurt compliments.

"Thanks sweetie. I wish I had time to take more culinary classes, but you know I stay pretty busy at the office - one day maybe."

"Where do you work?" Dave asks.

"Nowhere too exciting. I'm a dental assistant. I enjoy it enough. And it helps pay the bills so you won't hear me complain."

Dave nods in understanding.

"So how goes the cheer practice, speaking of work?" Kurt directs at Jamie.

"It's been okay I guess. They're talking about making me Co-Captain next year."

"Wow - Jamie, that's great. Co-Captain as a seventh grader's a pretty big deal."

"Yeah, I guess Uncle Kurt."

"What's wrong cutie?"

Jamie is averting his gaze, staring down at her plate as she picks at her food.

"I dunno. I just - I don't know if I love it anymore - you know?"

"Where's this coming from?" Amy queries. "You love dancing. You always have - "

"Yeah, I love dancing. I don't know if I love cheerleading though. It's all about popularity and caring all the time -"

"Well you should care -"

"About what everyone else thinks? Sometimes, I guess. But it feels like too much sometimes. I get tired of it."

"So - " Finn states awkwardly, an obvious subject change forth coming. "Um - have you got a chance to see Danny lately, Dave?"

Kurt drops his fork on the plate, the clanging causing everyone to look over at him. "Sorry - slipped," he explains while glaring menacingly at Finn who seems to visibly shrink.

"No," he supplies shortly.

"Stinks. Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. It does. I've been dying to but it's been difficult to figure out when I can, what with Dad standing guard every waking moment he's not at work and her pitbull of a babysitter making it her personal mission to kill anything that moves on sight."

"Beverly, right?"

Dave looks up at Jamie in surprise. "Right. How'd you know that?"

"Oh. Um - well, Danny told me. Facebook."

"Really?"

"Mmhm."

Dave wants to comment on this unusual development, but honestly can't decide what words would be most suitable - _"you used to laugh while other kids put maxi-pads on her back, doesn't seem like the best quality for a friend"_ - so he resigns against speaking at all.

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell interrupts his wildly running thoughts. It seems that every face at the table practically lights up with a suppressed, but still noticeable excitement.

"Hey Dave - would you mind answering that? You're sort of closer," Finn prompts.

"Mmkay," Dave shrugs, standing up and wandering toward the door. When he pulls it open, his heart nearly explodes with absolute delight.

"Hi," she greets, pushing her thick glasses up her nose. Dave hesitates for a milisecond, and then lifts her off the ground in a crushing hug.

"Dave! You're gonna crush me!"

"Whatever. As long as you're not imaginary, I can deal with you being flat as a pancake."

Finally he lets her down, his hands still glued to her shoulders as he stares in her face, still not fully believing she wasn't a figment of his imagination.

"What are you - How did you even get here?"

"Jamie told me you'd be here. Kurt invited me actually. He asked her to let me know."

"Facebook?"

"Facebook," she confirmed.

The silence sweeps over them. Their last painful exchange reminding them of the distance they'd experienced over the course of several weeks.

"Danny. I'm so sorry kid. I just - I never told you that stuff because I didn't want you to think less of me. I didn't wanna be some big hypocrite to you, I guess."

Danny glances at the ground, her glasses falling forward again, causing her to push them back in place with her index finger. "It does sort of suck, finding out your brother was the same guy who gives atomic wedgies to kid's like me."

"I was always wrong. None of what I did then was really who I was. I was too scared of being myself, too scared to break away from the pack and draw attention to myself. So I became the worst one of them - one of the biggest regrets of my life."

"You really hurt Kurt, like that?"

Dave nods placidly. "I really did."

"But he seems to like you now."

"I think so. I'd like to think so anyway."

Danny catches his eye then, hers boring into his with a grave intensity, a strong desire to understand.

"You learned to be friends even after all of that stuff. So it _can_ happen - letting it go, I mean."

Dave pats her head, his eyes still fixed steadily on her, "The bigger man was always Kurt. Because he was able to forgive me. That takes more courage than anything else. Any idiot can throw a punch or an insult. It takes someone with real character and grit to be able to forgive and let it go. I think that's way harder by far to do. Don't forget that."

Danny smiles up at him, her eyes shining with the glare from the porch light, and unmistakable tears.

"And how did you get here?" Dave hastens on, his arm now draped over her shoulder.

She pointed behind her, a familiar mini-van parked by the curb.

"You didn't."

"I did."

As if on cue, a thin hand is waving out the passenger side window at him. "Davey! Come say hello to your Grandma."

"Hey, why don't you go inside. I'll be there in a minute."

Danny nods, then waves goodbye to their Grandma Mary before disappearing inside the house. Dave strides over and ducks his head inside the driver's side window to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey Nana."

"Hey yourself little Crockett."

"So you busted her out of house arrest, huh?"

"Took some convincing. That Beverly sure is a aurnary little bitch. But she does her job. Kind of reminds me of that Lisa -"

"Nana stop. Lisa really wasn't that bad."

"Maybe not. Only two people who love each other can have an understanding that nobody else quite understands."

"Er- right. Well, anyway, thank you for bringing her by. It was a nice surprise. I haven't seen her in a while - "

"Davey, when are you and your Father going to stop this foolishness? It's nothing but a whole bucket of stubborn between the two of you. Somebody's got to pour it out - give up that pride and mend this. If anything for that poor child in there. She's got enough loss in her life just as you do. Don't make it any harder on her or yourselves -"

"Nana, Dad made it pretty clear how he feels about me -"

"Oh come now, David. You know that man is as stubborn and thick as the wall of China. He get's things stuck in his head and he'd die before he'd admit he was wrong. You know that. Unfortunately he got that characteristic from me. I'm just wrinkly enough now-a-days to have learned that there are more important things than your pride."

"This isn't pride for me. It's acceptance, or rather the _lack_ of."

Grandma Mary leans back, looking off into the distance, a thin smile veiling her pink lips.

"He went through the same thing - your Dad, with your Grandpa. I don't know what it is with you Karofsky men. Always so badly trying to prove yourselves and most times at the expense of others. Now who do we have here?" she announces while looking past Dave's shoulder with a renewed smirk.

"Hello there," the brunette greets jovially.

Grandma Mary was beaming at the poised figure walking toward them. Dave felt his insides squirm with unparalleled adoration at the sight.

"Why hello dear. Now who might you be?"

"Kurt Hummel, ma'am."

"Ah, Kurt. Ooh and so polite. I'm Maredith Karofsky. But most people know me as Grandma Mary. Very pleased to make your acquaintance. I've heard a bit about you."

Dave can feel a surge of panic rising into his throat. He thinks he recalls having mentioned this boy so many years ago, usually to complain how he'd all but ruined his life at McKinley.

"Oh?"

"Sure. Danny's mentioned you a few times. She really seems to adore you."

Kurt provides a humble nod. Dave exhales, feeling slightly faint.

"Well the feelings mutual."

"That's nice. Let me get a closer look at you dear. Don't be shy."

Kurt slowly eases forward.

"Come now I won't bite. I just want to get a good look at you."

She beckons him forward with her reedy hand and Kurt tilts toward her. She carefully takes his chin in her fingers, nudging him upward as if inspecting him, her cool eyes darting over his heated skin.

"Beautiful. Absolutely handsome." She gently releases his face, and smiles up at him. "I can see the appeal. Big heart too. I can feel it."

She quickly eyes Dave, a disguised sign of approval, and slants back in her seat as if readying herself to drive off.

"Well it was lovely to meet you Kurt. I best get going."

"Oh - er - Grandma Mary. We would love for you to join us. It'd be an honor."

She reaches out and pats Kurt's cheek affectionately. "Aren't you just a doll. Thank you so much for the invite but I'm afraid I have prior engagements."

"Like what?" Dave poses, genuninely curious at what a nearly eighty year old woman would have to do at this hour.

"If you must know, nosey, they're having Bingo night at the Palace Inn which I simply can't miss. And don't worry yourself about Danny. I'll be back in time to pick her up. Have fun boys. And little Crockett?"

Dave steps up and allows her to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Think about what Grandma Mary said, okay? I'm sure whatever it was, it was priceless. It usually is when I'm without my wine. Less amusing, but important."

"Yes ma'am."

"Love you now."

"Love you too."

And Grandma Mary peels off and hits the corner like a person not even a quarter her age.

"She's absolutely delightful."

"You're just saying that cause she called you beautiful."

"True. She also just seemed very loving. I like that in a person."

Dave is still staring at the place she'd disappeared from, smiling to himself. "Me too."

"Well, shall we Crockett?"

"Oh shit no. Don't start -"

"What? I think it's cute."

"It's something that I will only ever tolerate from my Grandma. It took me years to get to the point where I didn't want to punch her for saying it so don't push it."

"Your hostility is clearly an attempt to hide your shame. I know this from experience," Kurt states teasingly, his shoulder nudging against Dave's. "So are you going to tell me the story behind it's origin?"

"Look if I tell you, will you promise to give it a rest?"

"I solemnly swear..."

"Fine. It started when I was four. Somehow I became obsessed with Davey Crockett. I don't remember how or why. I just vaguely recall liking that he was an adventurer and had the same name as me. I even had a stupid raccoon skinned hat to top it off."

"... That I am up to no good, Mr. Crockett."

"Oh and now you're gettin' it."

"David, stop it! Stop!" Kurt squealed as Dave picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder.

"No mercy, Fancy!" He shouts as he spins them both around, Kurt hollering and wailing on his back. Dave carries them over to the grass, still spinning and feigning as if he was going to drop him.

"Okay, okay. I'm seriously going to hurl David -"

"You give up?"

"Yes, yes. I give up - I give up," he chokes out between strained laughs. "Just put me down before I liven up your shirt with an unflattering puke pattern."

"Alright your majesty." Dave begins to slide Kurt off of his shoulder when he feels himself being weighed down unexpectedly, losing his footing.

"Shit!"

They both topple to the ground, David laughing hysterically, as Kurt lands on top of him. Kurt swats him on the arm with a delicate grin, attempting to mask his utter amusement, but thankfully failing.

As the laughter dies down, Dave realizes that he is in fact lying down, with one Kurt Hummel spread on top of him. Neither were drunk, neither were out of their minds or emotionally compromised. Both seemed to have recognized their predicament, but yet had failed to untangle themselves from the awkward position.

Dave's smile becomes shy, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man hovering above him, Kurt's blue eyes piercing despite their warmth. Dave reaches up and brushes his hand over Kurt's face, gently cupping his cheek. Kurt leans into the touch, then places his own hand over Dave's.

Dave leans in, his lips brushing tentatively over Kurt's, barely tasting them. Kurt reciprocates, timid, but so perfect. It seemed to last forever though it had likely been no time at all.

Kurt pulls away with a soft smack, his blue eyes brimming with some emotion Dave couldn't easily recognize.

"We'd better get back inside, Mr. Crockett," he whispers with an air of seduction that caused Dave's cock to twitch.

"Well when you say it like that..."

Kurt smirks mischievously as he pulls himself up and offers Dave a hand. Dave grabs it and stands, still holding Kurt's hand firmly in his own. They walk back to the house hand in hand, reluctantly letting go once they reach the door.

* * *

"It takes well practiced skill. Only those with the gift can pull it off so easily... And she's got it! Crap that was good!" Finn shouts excitedly gesturing toward Danny.

"Hold your head back kid - "

"I got this Davey," she asserts, allowing her hands to settle on the table, the spoon glued in position on the tip of her nose.

"Only in our family is this considered a formidable skill set," Kurt chortles.

"Don't knock it cause you can't do it Hummel."

"Is this a challenge Finnegan?"

"Now it is since you used my horrible first name. That makes it personal."

"Bring it!"

"It's already been brought'en," Finn mocked in a scratchy valley girl voice.

"Hold on," Dave interrupts. "I propose we make this a table wide affair. Every man and woman for themselves. Longest spoon holder gets five bucks and the coveted title of the spoon whisperer."

"Count me in," says Amy. "Plus I love that show, Dog Whisperer. The things he seems to understand from those dogs, it's like wholesome witch magic for dog lovers."

"James?" Finn questions.

She sighs, then picks up her spoon as in answer.

"Cool. Get ready. I'm setting the alarm on my phone and... Start!"

Silver is gleaming off of every nose, each individual looking focused and determined as if they were competing for an olympic medal. It was pretty hilarious actually, observing silverware dangling precariously from each nose around the table.

Suddenly a clang is heard, signalling the fall of a spoon.

"Damn it!"

"Finn, language!" Amy scolded, but the sudden jerk of her head caused her spoon to follow suit with a loud metallic clank. "Shit!"

Finn's retaliatory laugh was boisterous. "Amy, language honey."

She scowled at him as he continued to bark out his laughter. Dave's chuckling at their exchange causes his spoon to drop.

"Then there were three whisperers."

"Shut up, David. You're going to make me laugh and I wants my five bucks," Kurt warns.

"Did you just bring out your inner Santana Lopez? Sweet Versace... You do want this win - "

"Stop, talking," Kurt blurts in between giggles.

"She'd be proud. And there's so many things you can do as a grown man with impeccable fashion sense with five dollars: like purchase... wait for it... a pair of crocs. That or a happy meal."

Kurt's spoon hits the table, his laughter bursting forth as he smacks Dave on the arm.

"You owe me five dollars just for the absurdity of putting me in a sentence with Crocs of all things. What in Gaga is wrong with you sir?"

"Everything. But you love it, so why fix it?"

There was something heavy that seemed to loll between them, the words meant to be joking, but feeling anything but.

"Exactly," Kurt answers, his grin spreading as his blue eyes hold Dave captive.

Another 'clang' sound brings them back to reality, both looking over to figure out what was going on through all the noise and clapping.

Dave's smile brightens as his sister stands from the table and takes a bow, spoon still dangling.

"Now she's just bragging," Finn laughs.

Jamie is laughing too, unhindered and openly. Dave had only been around her on one other occasion, but he definitely got the impression that this wasn't something that happened often with her unless at someone's expense. She looked all the more pretty when her smile was genuine.

"Well kid, it looks like you are now the official spoon whisperer. Your five dollars as promised," and Dave slips a five dollar bill in her awaiting hand. "What do you plan to do with your winnings oh great, whisperer?"

"What do you think? This has got two scoops of black cherry written all over it."

"A wise choice young metal warrior," Dave validates.

"Is black cherry really that good?" Jamie asks.

"Not to everyone. But to the rare few who can truly appreciate it's taste, definitely," Danny answers, shooting Kurt an amused look dripping with reminiscence while tucking the five bucks into her pocket. "You should try it sometime. It's gotta be more exciting than plain vanilla anyway."

"I second that," Finn remarks. "It's a crime for vanilla to go without anything on it. A pure trapesty -"

"Travesty smarty," Amy corrects and kisses him on the cheek while she begins to clear the dishes.

"Yeah. Maybe I will next time," Jamie says thoughtfully. "And if it sucks, you have to get me another flavor of my choosing," she points at Danny.

"Do I detect another bet coming on?" Dave leers playfully.

"Fine. As long as it isn't vanilla."

"Deal."

"Deal," Danny affirms.

"Thank you for positively influencing these girls, boys. I'm sure they'll soar to new academic heights if gambling becomes a new elective option," Amy comments while gathering empty dishes.

"Well the least I can do for my services is help you wash up," Dave states.

"That's the least, true. Normally Kurt ends up being my washing buddy but he can take a break this evening. Dish washing is the best way to break in a new member. Nothing like grease build up and food stains to see what you're really made of."

He winks at Kurt as he leaves to assist Amy in the kitchen with the clean up.

As he's rinsing and scrubbing, he can't help but overhear the laughter wafting in from the living room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this happy. He'd kissed Kurt... Great Grilled Cheesus... without alcohol or jealousy spurning him onward. He'd been sober for more than a month now. He was here with his sister, watching her enjoy herself with other people for once.

Damn... his eyes were stinging. If Ian were here, he knows he would automatically be subjected to an endless parade of gay insults ... _"you are seriously having your period out of your eyes right now - that's how gay you are,"_ or, _"you are the gayest link, goodbye!"_ ... Yep. Definitely something like that.

* * *

**A/N:** Now **Kittybits**, I know what you're thinking... Danny and Jamie suddenly being friendly is corny and unbelievable and what have you. But I had to do it. These two are becoming the twine that is tying our boys together and them being a united force serves the purpose more effectively. Plus I'm planning on making it interesting so as to simmer down the corniness a bit. Hopefully... Also **leftrightbrain, **it wasn't a knock down drag out fight between Danny and Dave but I hope you liked it. I kinda thought they'd been through enough with the separation and were ready to just forgive and get on with their lives. Thanks for your guys support and words of wisdom. Much obliged. Also thanks to everyone else for your thoughts and beautiful comments. Love it! Please continue.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **I think we're finally working toward the end of this fic peeps. Not sure how many more chaps but it feels like a close will be coming some time in future. Just a heads up. But there are still definitely some loose ends that need to be tied up, like some actual smut (not in this chap - but eventually). Thanks and please keep reviewing. Motivation comes with your support.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the random stuff I mentioned... For example Meryl Streep.

**Warning:** A little verbal gay bashing. Snippets of less than Godly language (but you knew that by now).

* * *

He remembers his Mom telling him that sometimes the best things came out of the worst situations. It was something he had become accustomed to hearing the days when he'd come home in tears after being teased and taunted by kids at school.

Dave mostly thought she was crazy.

But as his eyes lingered on the strange trio, laughing with abandon and glowing with unadulterated enjoyment as they stood in front of the parlor counter, he started to think that maybe she wasn't as crazy as he'd convinced himself that she was.

He was broken from his reverie when Kurt joined him at the table, Dave's chin still resting on his upturned palm as Kurt slipped into the booth across from him, absolutely beaming.

"Hey you," the beautiful man greeted.

"Hey," Dave quietly returned.

Kurt's eyes narrowed slightly, a frown teaming with concern overtaking the soft features. "You okay? You seem broody."

He hated the idea of tainting the jovial vibe; he was certain that's what would happen once he disclosed what had been on his mind. But him lying was a decidedly less attractive option, mostly because he sucked at it.

"Nothing much. Just - court, you know."

"It was today?"

Dave nods calmly.

"Wha - why didn't you say anything?"

"I told you I didn't want you or Finn involved - "

"But we could've testified. Or if anything I could've. The whole thing started because of me -"

"No, the whole thing started because those guys were homophobic dicks looking to start shit."

"David, I can't believe - why - you're - I don't get you sometimes."

"I fail to get you most times. But I like that. Keeps me on my toes."

Kurt shakes his head with a huff, leaning back into the booth. This reaction confirms Dave's earlier decision to keep Kurt out of the loop, at least before the appointment.

"You're mad at me aren't you?"

"I'm pissed actually."

"Well if there's any consolation, I didn't get any jail time."

"Oh. Well, that puts me at ease. Slap that band-aid right over the gaping wound underneath and I'm sure all will be right in the world - And why are you reaching under the table?"

"Just looking to see where you dropped your oscar. That performance was astounding! Meryl Streep would be clawing out your eyes for taking away her record breaking fifty-eighth oscar win - "

"Shut up! So what happened?"

Dave couldn't help but smile in spite of himself and the burning blue eyes currently searing into his skull. He wonders at what tender young age Kurt must've mastered his 'bitch-face' cause hell, it could be intimidating if you didn't see it coming. Dave clears his throat.

"I'll say it in words not sentences. Plea bargain. Fine. Suspended sentence with probation. Can't drink."

"And those bastards that started it? The one who smashed a bottle over your head, what about him?"

"Kurt - look, I don't want to talk about it anymore, alright? Jail time, no jail time, those guys are gonna be who they are. It's not gonna change them or miraculously cleanse them of their homophobic ways. You have to let it go," Dave reaches over and puts his hand over Kurt's in hopes of quelling his stony disposition. "It happened. It's over. Let's not look back, okay?"

Kurt's resolve seems to falter, his rigid posture relaxing a bit as he squeezes Dave's hand back. Dave is slightly startled when he notes the blue eyes leaking, a wet trail descending across the pale cheek.

"Fancy - why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry," he states in a hushed voice, "I just - I hate the injustice of it all. All you did was protect me and you end up... Sometimes the world can just be so damn disappointing."

Dave reaches over and gently wipes away Kurt's tear tracks with his free hand.

"Well the reason the world doesn't suck so bad is about to walk this way, so you gotta suck it up for now Fancy, okay?"

Kurt looks over his shoulder and notices the two girls gathering their ice cream cups. He releases Dave's hand in order to wipe at his eyes, blinking back any remnants of leftover tears.

Dave relaxes back into a casual position, leaning on his upturned palm once again as he smiles up at the approaching pre-teens.

"So ladies, you get the goods?"

"Yep. Well, we ended up keeping it simple. Jamie's idea."

The blond beams over at the pair and places a cup in front of Dave and then Kurt.

"Huh? So animal cookie and black cherry? Interesting choice."

"That's what happens when you leave them alone to make up their own minds Hummel."

"What, they lose them?" Kurt rebukes.

Jamie rolls her eyes but laughs obtrusively as both girls sit next to their respective family members. "You said you liked black cherry Uncle Kurt - "

"And animal cookie is plain awesome. I thought we already established this?" Danny adds.

"Wait, wait," Dave interrupts. "Isn't this the moment - you know, the bet?"

"Yep," Danny confirms. "And not only is she doing black cherry, she's gonna go for the animal cookie too. If she hates both, I'll owe her two scoops of crappy vanilla. I allowed it since she's trying two different flavors instead of_ just _cherry."

"And if she adores it?" Kurt inquires.

"Nothing. I'll just get the joy of rubbing it in her face."

"Whatever," Jamie chuckles while digging her spoon into the black cherry.

"Nothing, huh? Noble and selfless... Reminds me of somebody else I know," Kurt states thoughtfully as he deliberately catches Dave's eye. Dave smirks back with a subtle shrug and returns his gaze to the blond slowly spooning the pinkish substance into her mouth.

There's a moment of silence and then...

"It's... kinda good."

"Boom!" Danny erupts. "One down. Now the cookie, please."

"Since you want to make a big deal, I think maybe we should all go at the same time."

Dave nods in agreement. "I dig it. Fancy, what do you think? All in together?"

Kurt is biting his lip, making a show of his decision. But Dave knew there was something else twinkling behind the blue orbs, a deeper meaning from Dave's words being emanated from the depths of the playful demeanor being displayed on the surface.

"I'm game. Shall we?"

They all lift their spoons and proceed to bite down a sizeable scoop of the animal cookie flavor.

Jamie is scowling as she gulps down her bite. "This sucks."

"Didn't like it?" Kurt asks.

"No. That's not it. It sucks _because_ I like it. Now I'm not gonna hear the end of it."

"Probably not," Dave concedes with a smirk.

"Not true. I'm nice enough to at least wait until you're finished before rubbing it in your face."

"What a gentlewoman," Kurt laughs.

"I aim to please." - "She aims to please." Both Danny and Dave blurt out simultaneously. They share an amused look, and then burst into laughter.

Yep. Dave's Mom had always been a genius in his book. His own troubles be damned, he was having a good time with people he truly loved.

* * *

Positivity can implode with the slightest of words. Dave kept looking in the side view mirror at his sister, hoping that she wasn't blaming herself. It seemed assholes in fact came in all shapes in sizes. And in this case, hung out with one, Jamie Hudson. It happened as they were walking out of the ice cream parlor, the girls several feet ahead of them as they made their way down the block to the car...

_Jamie slowed her pace until finally coming to a halt. To Dave it seemed odd, that was until he caught a glimpse of several teens coming toward them: a gaggle of young girls adorning those familiar high pony tails and superior grins that sickened Dave to his core. Both Danny and Jamie went from laughing to stewing in silence, awaiting the inevitable to befall them._

_Kurt noticed and immediately quickened his pace to catch up, maybe in hopes of intervening. Dave grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. He shook his head, signalling for Kurt to simply wait and see what happened._

_They stood by idlely, their ears open as they planted themselves against the backdrop, heads down and hoping to blend in._

_"Hey Hud. Maybe my eyes aren't working right or something. Are you coming out of the ice cream place with _her_?" The tallest girl, a thin brunette with flashing amber eyes poses threateningly. _

_"Um - "_

_"No. We just were walking out at the same time," Danny interjects._

_"Well Jamie. You'd better be careful. Lard ass might try to eat you."_

___Dave feels himself bristle, Kurt now holding his arm to steady him._

_The small group giggles in unison. A shorter sandy brown haired then jeers, "yeah, in more ways than one."_

_Dave is clenching his jaw so tightly it's actually painful, Kurt's nails digging into his arm at this point in an attempt to keep him grounded. Danny looks close to caving in, her eyes dragging across the ground as they steer away from the source of her humiliation._

_Jamie gives a brief glance over at Danny, then turns back toward the group. "I can't even remember your name so your words are useless to me," she directs at the sandy haired girl who is suddenly sheepish under the scrutiny. "And who I hang out with isn't any of your guys' business anyway."_

_"Wow. So you're turning into a dyke now Hud?"_

_Despite being outside, the air might've just been vacuumed away and replaced by a strong, foreboding sense of tension. But then, it's broken into pieces by very unexpected words._

_"I'd rather be a dyke than a brainless slut with no goals and a pinched cabbage patch face. Now move out of the way."_

_Dave had never felt the pride of a parent, but damn it all if he didn't feel it in that moment for the little blond goddess that was Kurt's niece. Kurt beamed up at him, his smirk full of the same sense of pride._

_"Seems that your girl learned her comebacks from the best," Dave whispers teasingly._

_"That she did," Kurt whispers back._

_"You're a bitch Hudson! Wait till people at school find out!"_

_"Oh, cry me a river man hands! C'mon Danny," and they push through the group and continue their journey toward the car._

_Kurt chuckles. "Can't take credit for the 'man hands' line. She got that one from her Uncle Puck. Overheard it when he was drunk and reminiscing about his fling with Rachel."_

_"Ew," Dave replies with a grimace._

_As the group passes by, seething about the dropping status quo of their supposed team leader, Dave and Kurt take it upon themselves to unglue their frames from the wall and trek in the duo's wake toward Kurt's Navigator..._

And now they were riding back in bitter silence. Danny hunched over, her face leaning against the glass of the window. Jamie simply staring out of her own window, looking as if she was contemplating on opening the door and jumping out to avoid the social mess she may have made for herself with her snappy, boorish behavior.

Kurt is focusing on the road, remaining silent while Dave is split between watching his sister in the side view, and looking over at Kurt for any sign of encouragement, or congratulations, or some sort of validation for Jamie's ability to wreck those idiotic girls egos in one fell swoop. He decided to follow his lead and simply leave it be.

When they reach Paul Karofsky's home, they're greeted outside by a red head with wide hips and a dark frown afflicting her rectangular face.

"You're late."

"By five minutes Beverly," Dave grumbles.

"Look - you're lucky I even let her go. Be warned. She's late again. I won't let her go next time."

Dave barely has time to retort before Danny slams the door and marches off toward the house, Beverly shooting one last scathing look over her shoulder before trodding after her.

"Well isn't she a ray of red-headed sunshine," Kurt remarks sarcastically.

"Yeah. I like to call her Debra Messy-soul, in celebration of her spirited display of bubbly happiness. If I lived in the house still we could have our own sitcom: Dave and Grace. I think it'd be a hit."

Kurt chortles, then his eyes trace over Jamie still sitting quietly in the back.

"Wanna talk about it cutie?"

"Not really."

"Jamie - you weren't wrong you know."

"Try telling those goons that. They're supposed to be my friends. Now I doubt they'll even look at me the next time we have practice."

Kurt grows quiet. Both he and Dave share a look. Truth was, she wasn't wrong this time around either. Kurt looks as if he wants to proceed but Dave pats his hand discreetly, shaking his head. Kurt huffs and puts the car back into drive.

Ten minutes later, Dave pushes the door open, taking special care to call out Ian's name before committing himself to entering the apartment.

His eyes widen when a tall, rather strapping black dude emerges from the bedroom, Ian trailing at his heels.

"Hey. Sorry. I - um - can leave if I'm interrupting - "

Ian giggles, a high pitched noise that seems pretty gay, even for the flaming homo-ness that was Ian.

"Don't be silly. Michael here was just fixing the cable. The box was on the fritz. And you know how those_ boxes_ can be, don't you Yogi?"

"Right." On a second, much more careful glance, Dave notes the blue uniform shirt and the tool belt dangling over the guy's waist. "Boxes can suck -"

"Your soul right out of your body," Ian laughs out, an almost manic grin on his face.

The man walks up to Dave and puts out his hand.

"Hey man. I'm Michael. Sorry if me coming by was any disturbance to you. I'm gonna be heading out so you two have the place to yourselves -"

"To spend complete platonic time together. As room mates. Good old fashion roomy time. Right, Dave?"

"Uh huh. Yeah - sure."

"Right, cause we are no where near boyfriends. Just humble, non-sexual roomies."

"Sounds good. Well then fella's... Have fun. It was good to meet you Ian. And Dave right?"

"Yeah. Same here man. Take care."

"Um - Michael?"

He stops mid-step and turns to face Ian with a quirked eyebrow.

"You - um - do you think I could get your cell number? In case the box acts up. I've got to have my access to 'True Blood' or I'll go ballistic. A very un-pretty sight."

Michael smiles, a genuine look of appreciation mixed in with surprise.

"Uh - well, normally we don't give out our personal numbers. But... I'd hate to be held responsible for you not getting your True Blood fix. Or to cause you any un-prettiness. That'd just be a shame."

Ian looks as if he's going to squeal and melt into the carpet as Michael hands him a card and leaves with a wave.

"He's not gay," Dave notes aloud as the door shuts.

"Are you kidding? That boy is as gay as Elton John's feather ear ring. And besides, did you see him? My Lord, he's a six foot, two inch cup of mocha deliciousness with my name printed neatly on the label."

"Whatever. He ain't gay."

"He is. And stop being a Debbie Downer and get the TV trays out. I made your negative ass some lean chicken seasoned to perfection."

Dave chuckles to himself. "Debbie... that's funny."

When the two sit down to eat, Dave can't help but think of what happened following the recent ice cream excursion. Weird how that incident seemed to trump everything else remotely crappy that had occurred in his day; mainly his court consequences.

"Jamie stood up to some punk kids who were giving Danny a hard time."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Trouble is they were her friends from the cheer squad."

"Oh. Yikes."

"They called Danny a dyke. Well, insinuated it anyway."

"Ooh, Yogi. I'm sorry. Was she okay?"

"I don't think so. She was really shaken. It was hard to see that. For way more reasons than her just being hurt."

Ian looks thoughtful, his eyes brimming with sympathy.

"It reminded you of how you were with Kurt, right?"

Dave nods succinctly. "And it killed me, Ian. Fuck it killed me."

"But you said Jamie stood up to them, right?"

"Yeah. She did. Kid's got moxy. She did what I couldn't do back then."

"Can't always judge a book by it's cover Yogi. Maybe hanging around with Danny gave her what she needed to be able to do that. You and Kurt helped that along, you know. From my understanding you and Kurt never gave each other a chance to get to know one other. They're lucky to have two people that they love and trust very much, help bridge the gap."

Dave exhales a heavy sigh. "Ian?"

"Yes, Yogi?"

"If you weren't so convinced that Michael was gay - which he isn't - and were planning to molest him senseless, I'd be tempted to give you a courtesy blow job right now."

"Yogi! You're finally learning my ways. I'm such a proud Papa right now."

"Shut it twink!"

Ian laughs loudly as he sips from his water glass. After a solid minute of Ian giggling crazily, he regains his sense of seriousness. "So what happened with court?"

"Let's just say, I ain't gonna be behind bars."

"Good enough for me. Now pass the salt."

Dave hands over the salt, smiling to himself as he thinks of how lucky he is to have a fortune cookie in the form of a pure hearted, blond twink.

* * *

**A/N:** **leftrightbrain **just wanted to say thanks again for being so gracious and breaking down the legal stuff for me. You're Amazing! So much so that I capitalized the 'A' just to demonstrate how much so. Hope you guys enjoyed this one and will stay with me till the end. Much love as always!


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Alright my lovelies... first of all let me say, my apologies for the hiatus. I've been out of town for a bit and have also been slaving at my job so I haven't made time like I've desparately wanted to in order to update as quickly as normal. Okay, now that that's settled, I've worked pretty hard on this one as a make up for the overdue releaving of my invisibility cloak ;) ... It's longer (I think the longest chap yet), and full of random, delicious drama which I hope is to your liking.

**Disclaimer:** This chap is so long, I don't even want to re-read it again to look for specific crap that I mentioned so just know that I owns none of it, except the plot.

**Warnings:** Language content, sexual slurs/bigot like insults, violence, and probably other stuff that I should take time to mention but again, I'm too lazy and plain anxious to get this chap up already so just enjoy!

* * *

He learns through Kurt's prying eyes and ears that Danny isn't as withdrawn lately and is talking more openly than ever with Jamie since the incident at the ice cream parlor. At least, that's how Jamie relayed it since she'd continued her private messaging with Danny despite their last awkward in person exchange.

Kurt expressed his worry that Jamie would maybe become depressed once the social consequences of her actions finally sunk in, but thus far, he's reported that she goes to practice, does her routines, ignores the negative attempts to goad her and fuses her aloofness with her own version of the 'bitchface' to ward off the most daring of her peers.

"She won't admit it but I know she's bothered by it. They've gotten some crank calls at the house, and she definitely is staying in more instead of going out with her friends," Kurt was saying through his blue tooth while weaving his shopping cart past a pair of whiny children.

Dave swipes at his forehead, wiping the sweat away as he takes a swig from his water bottle and settles himself down on the grassy area currently untainted by his landscaping handiwork, his cell phone balanced on his shoulder.

"It's gonna be lame for her for a while. But I guess it'll be a good lesson on her learning who her true friends are, right? Isn't that what you Glee clubbers always whined about?"

"We sang about it actually, and you've got a point. I just hope she isn't too hurt or disappointed with the changes and can live with the idea of not being uber popular."

"At first maybe it'll feel like shit, but it'll get better with time. Isn't that what the older generations always say? Time heals all wounds."

"Look at you being all philosophical today."

"It's the heat. It fried extra wrinkles into my brain."

"Remind me to write a letter of thanks to mother nature."

"Or...You could just tell me what you're wearing? That may appease the whims of our grand mother nature."

Dave can't see him, but he knows Kurt's mouth is twisting into a sly grin. He can picture it perfectly. He settles himself back onto his elbow, kicking his legs out with the phone plastered to his ear, smiling to himself at his own boldness.

"Oh really? Appease the nature goddess herself huh?"

"Yep. You wouldn't want to anger her. According to those tampon commercials, she's a little white lady in a green dress who'll even follow and harass you on your carribbean vacation. She's obviously relentless."

Kurt chuckles airily, his voice suddenly smoothing into a velvety ripple that causes Dave's spine to tingle.

"Do you wanna know what I have on top, or underneath, David?"

Dave swallows audibly. Shit... He'd been joking, sort of, but this hadn't been the response he'd been expecting. He was simultaneously aroused and in awe.

"Start with the top and work your way under."

"A man who knows what he wants. I like that. Well, I have on this tight fitting white t-shirt. The v-neck plunges pretty low, close enough to my nipples that I'd rather just take it off entirely."

"Uh huh," Dave responds dumbly.

"My jeans are sitting pretty nicely over my ass too. Tight, constraining... Just another item I feel like I need to rip right off. Or for someone else to."

"Hm. Promising. And under?"

"Nothing of course."

Dave loses his grip on the phone and has to take a minute to right himself before getting back on. He can hear Kurt laughing when he puts his ear back to the speaker.

"Ha - fucking - ha, Hummel."

"What? You started it."

_Yeah and you nearly finished it_, is what he wants to say. "True. Guess I got what I deserved."

"So do you want beef ribs or pork Neanderthal?"

"Beef works. Do you want me to grab anything before I head over? Or rather, before Ian drops me off like it's my first day of school?"

"Nope. All I need is you."

"What?"

"I mean, you just need to bring yourself. I'm getting the essentials, Finn's already cleaning up the grill, and Amy's getting all the cutlery and place settings together. You sure you don't want me to pick Danny up?"

"Nah. Grandma Mary offered so I think it'll probably be best for all parties involved."

Kurt sighs. "Is he still not talking to you?"

"Nah. Not really. But at least he's allowing Danny to come hang out. I'm sure Grandma Mary has a lot to do with that, but either way, I'll take what I can get."

"Did I tell you how much I love that woman?"

"Basically every time I breathe her name."

"Even that feels like it's not enough."

"Well she'll probably stop by for a bit. Now you can worship her in person."

"Just don't let me make a fool of myself, cause I will be tempted to bend down and kiss her feet."

"Okay - ew. On that note, I'll see you soon Fancy."

"Au revoir, monsieur Karofsky."

Dave clicks the end button and slides his phone closed, breathing a long sigh full of content, mixed in with a surge of sexual excitement which shivers through him. Damn did he love when Fancy spoke french. It just does something to him. He has a feeling that Kurt knows that too.

* * *

"And I said, not without butter you won't."

Kurt was smacking the table in hysterics. It was safe to say that he absolutely adored Grandma Mary. And Dave ventured a guess that the feeling was mutual. He and Finn had retired to the living room area to catch up on some gaming while the ladies including Nana, Amy, and Kurt of course, remained in the dining room to gossip.

Danny and Jamie had disappeared some time ago prattling on about the latest pop music artist, and Danny's interest in remixing an older 80's tune with her new single or some crap like that. Supposedly they left with the premise of Danny showing Jamie how her computer DJ program worked. Dave was just happy to see that they were still getting along despite the recent instance of teenage pariah-hood.

"Dude, you just got clipped - again."

"Huh? Oh - right."

"This almost doesn't even feel like co-op. Like - I'm literally fighting off this whole battalion single handedly. Wake up Karofsky!"

"Whatever Hudson. Just quit wasting our air strikes."

Dave had indeed zoned out, his attention skimming over to the dining area as he took in the sight of Kurt's flushed face, laughing with abandon as his Nana snickered, patting his shoulder with affection.

When another 'boom' sounds, he realizes he just hit a land mine. Automatically, he elicits a cautious side-glance over at Finn, wondering how in the world he could tolerate playing a first person shooter game given his history. Amy had explained it to Dave earlier while they were gathering plates following Finn's suggestion that they partake in a gaming break to escape the 'woman talk'.

_"When he first was released, it was such a struggle. He was really depressed and the nightmares and everything were awful - and it seemed like it happened all the time. I finally convinced him to see somebody, you know? Talk to someone so he could try to work through everything. He did, and it helped. But Finn didn't like the idea of relying on medication and eventually he stopped going to his sessions. One of the things he did get that sort of stuck was the idea of exposure therapy. Him playing those type of games gives him a chance to confront the conflict without the real danger; to re-assign a different meaning to the pain and everything he's come to think of when he remembers fighting."_

And so Dave agreed following that talk, to engage, though admittedly with a watchful eye. Finn however seemed fine though. Dave guessed that he must've been doing this for some time, because his sense of concentration and actual playful intrigue didn't feel marred by that crazed look while he was playing that he'd witnessed when Finn had gone ballistic at the bar.

"Dude, just go over there."

"What?"

"Your mind is so not here because you are seriously like - the worst partner ever. You've shot me by accident like four times, you keep hitting our own land mines... You obviously want to talk to Kurt and the women folk. So just go."

There was no anger in his voice. If anything, Dave thought he caught a hint of teasing in the tone but couldn't be totally certain.

"Hudson. You're a dick," but he follows the insult with a wide grin and vacates the couch to head toward the dining room.

"But in the end - there's more important things," Grandma Mary was saying. Dave halted at the unfamiliar tone of voice, instead leaning against the wall near the entrance, wondering what subject matter would bring that type of energy from his normally bubbly, enigmatic Grandmother.

"You loved him in the end?" Kurt asked.

"Oh with every piece of me that I could. You see that's how you know. Love. True, undeniable, maddening, sensuous, and pure love. I hated him at first. Davey doesn't know that of course about his Grandpa, but it's true. He made my blood boil that man. But there's always a thin line between love and hate. And I tight rope walked it for years before I finally realized that what it was, was honest to goodness love. For there isn't a person who could insight such passionate emotion from me like he could. Good or bad."

"I know what you mean," Amy related. "I've never felt so hopeless at times, yet so hopeful with somebody then I do that big oaf in there. I just - I wouldn't know what to do without him."

"And that is what I believe to be the recipe my dears. The balance."

A contemplative silence ensues. Dave thinks of entering then and just passing through on the guise of getting some water, but he halts when Kurt's monotone voice breaks through the silence.

"I think I felt that before. I thought so anyway. I guess I just - always struggled, you know? I always end up giving too much of myself to the person. Until there's nothing left to give. Then I'm left with nothing. It just - it sucks."

"But that's not true love sweet heart. Giving yourself wholly only to get someone else's whole in return... Picking each other up, being each other's half, loving each other despite your faults, and even sometimes learning to love those faults... that's love. And you deserve it dear. Every bit. Don't allow some unworthy man from your past make you feel like you're not worth that. Because you are."

Dave could hear the smacking sound that signalled a pantented Nana Mary kiss being planted on Kurt's cheek; some sniffling noises and then a soft, "thank you."

Kurt had barely breathed the words and it sounded as if they were now wrapping each other in a hug.

"And by the way. You can say 'man' Kurt, instead of 'person'. We all know you're as gay as the day is long. And I love every bit of the rainbow that you are, son."

Dave had to cover his mouth to forstall the burst of laughter attempting to breach past his pursed lips. Kurt's infectious chuckle however rang out beautifully, Amy also chortling in unison.

"Well I think I must say goodbye. Danny will be alright to stay the night?"

"Of course Grandma Mary. We'd love to have her," Amy answers.

"Good. I'll call her Father and give him my stern 'because I said so' schpiel. She'll be more than fine to stay."

Dave took that as his cue to briskly walk back to he couch and pick up the game controller. Finn immediately shot him a weird look.

"Dude - what are you -"

Finn was interrupted by Grandma Mary and company entering the living room.

"You two enjoying your game?" Nana inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

Dave shot Finn a look, hoping to communicate his need for Finn to go with the flow. Finn's look of confusion was prominent but the words that left his mouth contradicted the expression, "Um - yeah. Dave's been hounding the crap - oh, um, sorry, the - er - stuff, out of the enemy. Right, dude?"

"Mmhm," Dave answered non-committally. Adult Finn had actually mastered, though sloppily so, the skill of playing along. Grilled Cheesus had blessed Dave once again.

"Wonderful. Well I'll be leaving now. Tell the girls I said goodbye. David your sister will be spending the night here so no worries about getting her back. I can come by tomorrow to pick her up. Thank you all for your hospitality," She notes as she gives a quick peck to both Kurt and Amy in turn. Finn pauses the game and hobbles over to her, an awkward moment of hesitancy as he stood before her, then suddenly engulfed the small frame in a tight hug.

"An enthusiastic goodbye. Those are always my favorite."

"Thanks Grandma Mary. You're pretty awesome."

"Why thank you sweet heart. I've heard that I can be," she accosts with a sly wink and a swift pat on his cheek. Dave is now holding her coat out for her, which she takes and then eases her way to the front door.

"Little Crockett," she says simply.

"Nana," he replies.

She smiles, a hint of some secret knowledge twinkling in her orbs. "Bravery, son," she states merrily. She then walks out the door, leaving him to contemplate her words as he softly shuts the door behind her.

He met Kurt's eye when he turned from the door. Radiant would be an understatement when considering the absolutely glowing smile sent his way.

"So... Little Crockett, huh?"

Dave sneers over at Finn who's shooting him a crafty, smug looking smirk.

"I swear to the grilled one himself, I will punch your face with the strength of ten men if you say anything else about it."

Finn puts his hands up in mock surrender, the lop-sided grin still present.

Amy's cunning smile thins out, her sniggering gushing forward in bursts from between her pressed lips, Kurt following suit as he attempts to look up at the ceiling, his snorting seeping through.

"I hate you all."

All three burst out laughing then, Finn doubling over in stitches, his mountainous form looking gawky and awkward bent over, as his face reddened with keening laughter.

* * *

It's late. Finn and Amy have already retired and headed to bed, and the girls had long past opted for sleep.

Dave is sharing the couch with Kurt, several feet separating them, both mirroring each others position, heads thrown back and relaxed into the cushion, their eyes lazily trailing over one another as if they were hoping to memorize every inch, every line of the others features.

"Your eyes change color in certain light. Did you know that?"

Kurt shakes his head, his smile lingering. Dave continues in a thoughtful tone, "in natural light, they get sort of grayish, warm. Here since it's sort of dim, they're a cooler blue, almost a touch of green. I noticed that when we used to have fifth period english together."

"Really?" Kurt asks, sitting up slightly.

"Yeah. I would - this is gonna sound three kinds of stalkerish - but I, um, I used to watch you."

Kurt huffs out a laugh. "Yeah. Not at all creepy. Continue."

"Shut it Hummel. Anyway, I had a pretty good side view of you from where I sat. Sometimes I, um - even pretended to be asleep just so I could sneak looks at you when Mr. Bennett was droning on, boring everybody to death."

"You definitely had me fooled. Just another brainless Neanderthal wasting his formal education away so he could dream about video games and big mac's."

"Can't always judge a book by the cover Fancy."

Kurt grins wryly, his eyes twinkling. "So what did you see Mr. Karofsky?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what did you see... When you looked at me?"

There's a demure, almost bashful intonation coursing through each word like sinews piecing together to create muscle... reserved, but curious, a hint of what Dave may have misinterpreted as hope.

Dave sits up as well, his hands clasped together in front of him as he quietly contemplates his next words. Dave smiles to himself, his eyes looking off into the distance as he recalls the moments spent secretly loving Mr. Bennett's seating arrangement, loving the brief specks of time that he could truly watch Kurt without fear of scrutiny or judgement. It happened to be his favorite class that year for that very reason.

"That your skin looked so soft, like a pale silk that felt smooth to the touch. Llike it would practically melt with even the most subtle caress."

Kurt is smiling over at Dave, shy and tentative, but Dave fails to notice as his eyes slide closed in tune with his thoughts, the memories of a younger Kurt washing through his mind's eye.

"I would get jealous - jealous of the times when you'd be laughing with that girl, Tina in class. You would turn around in your seat, and I could get the best view of you directly then. Your smile, I always wanted it to be directed at me. I wished for it, any excuse to at least be near enough to see it, cause I knew it could never be for me."

Dave's eyes open then, finding a poised Kurt piercing him with a reserved gaze.

"Superior. I know that's what you had to be just to get through everyday because of me and those other pieces of shit who were too scared of your daring and uniqueness. But I think, when no one was looking, I could see the warmth underneath that cool mask you wore for us... and it was beautiful. You're beautiful, Kurt."

Kurt's eyes are watering, a soft chuckle escaping from him.

"Wow. And you saw all of this in a forty minute class period?"

Dave laughed in response, nodding his head.

"Yeah. I guess I did, Fancy."

Kurt grew quiet as he watched Dave intently. He shakes his head, as if trying to come to terms with something.

"What?" Dave asks, his concern augmenting.

"It's just - I wished that I would've known you then. Really got to know _you_. This really amazing guy named David - not the bully and crowd pleasing tormentor known as Karofsky."

"Not anymore than I wished for it. Believe me."

And Dave felt it then, the words settling on his tongue, waiting to be released into the atmosphere and collected in those delicate, pale ears.

"Kurt I - um - I..."

Kurt observed Dave with a concerned expression.

"I'm... Probably gonna need to get going."

Fucking coward. Damn. His Nana would be smacking him upside the head right now. That word comes to mind immediately, jarring him with the speed in which it assaults his psyche... _Bravery_... Had she known? Is this the very moment that she suspected that Dave would need to have heard that word for?

Kurt looked over at the clock adorning the adjacent wall. He releases a heavy sigh, so drawn it seemed that there was more emotion than just tire and wear held within the gesture.

Dave stands up, placing his hands in his pockets as if to cage them, keep from doing anything else he may regret even more then his current state of disarray. Kurt stands as well, stretching in an almost elegant manner as he too hides his hands, placing them behind his back as if uncertain of what to do with them.

"It is pretty late. Better take you now before sleep smacks me into unconsciousness against my will."

"Wouldn't want that. Do you mind if we, um, go check on the girls before we head out?"

Kurt shoots him an understanding look. "Sure."

Dave follows in his wake, making sure not to get too close despite how badly he wants to as they make their way down the hallway toward Jamie's bedroom.

The door is closed, the only hint of light slipping underneath is a tell tale blue-ish tint that may belong to a television or computer screen, providing the only true light in the atmosphere. They grow quiet, even their breathing gradually slowing as soft whispering can be heard coming from behind the white door.

Kurt carefully pushes the door ajar, the noise imperceptible it's so subtle.

Both pairs of eyes widen at the sight before them.

There they were. Both girls. Their lips pressed together in a chaste, yet very intimate kiss; oblivious to the figures standing in the shadow, frozen in their surprise.

Dave immediately wraps his hand around Kurt's mouth to muffle the startled exclamation and shuts the door quietly, pulling the man back down the hall and into the nearest open door; the bathroom it seemed - flicking on the light and quickly shutting the door.

"Kurt, hey, listen - listen!" Dave hisses. Finally Kurt stills, Dave's hand still cupped over his mouth.

"I'm gonna take my hand away. I need you to not make any loud noise. Okay? Can you do that?"

Kurt breathes heavily against Dave's hand, tickling the flesh, then nods frantically.

"Good. Alright." Dave slowly slips his hand away.

"Okay. I'm good. Yeah... But Holy Prada they were kis-mmph," Kurt's words are cut off by a strong hand clapping over his mouth again.

"Fancy!" Dave warns.

"Mmkeh, mmkeh," Kurt concedes. Dave removes his hand reluctantly, watching Kurt carefully for any sudden movements.

"I don't - I don't even know what to - what the hell did I just witness?" Kurt murmurs in an anxious state.

"What _we_ just witnessed was your niece and my sister kissing."

"Maybe it was - you know - like a friend kiss? Girls do that - "

"Yeah, and so do gay boys and married people. C'mon Kurt! That looked anything but friendly."

"Do you think - do you think they are?"

"What, gay?"

Kurt nods his head, blue eyes trained on Dave's hazel pools as if looking for an answer; any answer, no matter how contrived.

"I dunno. That did come out of the blue didn't it?"

"Ya, think?"

Dave smiles at the predicament. His sister, kissing a girl... But not just any girl, one of the most popular head cheerleaders at their middle school. Part of him was cheering for Danny, the other more protective part, was worried about her being hurt emotionally.

"Hey, you okay, Fancy? You look pretty upset."

Kurt indeed had a distinct frown etched over his normally delicate face.

"I'm a little sad actually."

Dave was taken aback by the statement. "Why would you feel sad? I mean - sure it's completely unexpected and what not but - "

"No, David. I'm sad because my gay-dar is waaay off if I missed this one. Maybe I'm getting too old."

Dave can't help but laugh. Only Kurt would think of some random shit like that during such an awkward, potentially life changing revelation.

"Nah, Fancy. Your gaydar only gets better with age. I think this was just so out there that it flew right underneath the radar entirely."

"Well, what do you suggest we do?"

"What do you mean? We don't do anything."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah - seriously. It's not our business. They're both getting older, hormones and all that... I say we just give them privacy on this one. Let them figure out."

"They're only twelve years old David. Do you really think we should leave them to their own hormonal driven devices with this?" Kurt spat with an air of frustration, his hands gesturing wildly with each word.

Dave calmly reaches up, and places his hands over Kurt's, lowering them down to his sides and holding them in place.

"Yes. I think we should. When they're ready, they'll come to us."

Kurt was eyeing Dave imploringly, the desire for Dave's declaration to be the absolute truth, desparately evident in his gaze.

"Okay. We'll leave it alone. But I swear - if one of them ends up pregnant, David - "

"I'll make sure to call the Guiness book of world records cause I don't think that's ever been done before."

Kurt narrows his eyes and then swats Dave's shoulder with vigor.

"Ow! Alright. Joke much?"

"I know that can't happen ass, I just - I don't want either of them to get hurt."

"I know, Fancy. I know," he whispers into Kurt's hair, no longer able to keep away as he pulls the smaller man forward into a hug.

Kurt just exhales, and allows himself to be wrapped up.

_Bravery..._

His arms are set firmly around Kurt's frame, and Dave feels intoxicated by his scent which is floral and sweet, with a hint of musk. His lips suddenly find the top of Kurt's hair, then they're gently pressing against his temple. Kurt pulls away slightly, just enough to look up at Dave who doesn't dare look away.

It's there... the desire he hoped he'd be able to see. It's clear, and all consuming, and draws him forward, flooding him with an impervious fulfillment to feel the other man...

He dives forward, kissing him hungrily, Kurt's hands snaking around Dave's broad shoulders as they press against each other, the kiss enveloping them as they crash, nip, and battle with their tongues, a dance that felt as smooth as breathing.

Dave pushes Kurt up on the counter, the diva wrapping his legs around Dave's waist as Dave attacks his throat with sure lips, Kurt moaning at the contact.

Dave vaguely registers a sound... a buzzing that rumbled loudly enough to echo... Kurt however halts at the sound. They both look down at Kurt's cell which had fallen on the floor, the screen alight with one name...

**_Nick_**

Kurt looks momentarily stricken but he attempts to play it off, provide Dave reassurance through a simple look from his cool eyes which were still lust blown.

Dave has to ask. He hates that, but knows that the response will determine if this was going to continue. He owes himself that much.

"Do you - wanna answer it?"

Kurt immedately shakes his head, eyes glued to Dave as if he might pull away the moment his eyes travel elsewhere.

"No. Not at all, actually."

Something in Dave, maybe a hidden resolve still lingering in order to maintain even the slightest protection against rejection, feels as if its dissolving. Kurt's eyes, the unmistakable sincerity... He believes him with his whole being.

"Good," is all Dave can say before re-capturing Kurt's lips. They stop again, this time Dave being the initiator as a another, less distinct sound pierces the atmosphere.

Kurt's eyes widen as he sits up.

"Is that a car horn?" Dave asks inquisitively.

"Hey - Kurt! I know you're there. Your car's out front!"

Dave groans audibly, leaning his head forward against Kurt's shoulder as he immediately recognizes the voice outside, shouting at the top of his stupid, douchey lungs.

The car horn blares again and Kurt sighs. "I have to go talk to him before he wakes up the neighborhood."

"No. _We're_ gonna go talk to him."

"David - Your restrictions. You know you can't get into trouble - "

"I won't do anything."

Kurt shoots him a skeptical glare.

"I promise, Fancy. Okay?"

Kurt shakes his head and slinks down from the bathroom counter, marching forward with a determined air as they exit the bathroom. The idiotic shouting was more distinguishable once they reached the living room area and then pulled the front door open.

"Ah! There you are. And look - it's the ass burglar himself. Figures."

"Nick what the hell are you doing? Someone's going to call the cops - "

Nick steps away from his porsche, his sneer fixed in accompaniment with a heavy glower as he observed the two figures cautiously moving toward him.

"Well you tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do Kurt! I call you, you don't answer. I text, get nothin' back... I thought this might be the best way - hell the only way left to get your attention."

Kurt's eyes are flashing, his stance rigid. "To stalk me and just show up un-announced in the middle of the night at my brother's home, Nick?"

"Yeah. If that what it takes to get you to see me."

"I thought I made it clear before. You and I - we can't be together anymore. If you want to even call it that - together."

"That's funny. You didn't seem to have a problem fucking me when I was taking you out to restaurants -"

"Oh is that what those were? I could've sworn those were just seedy dive bars on the outskirts of town that just happened to have a menu - "

Nick continues angrily. "Or bought you that jewelry crap you like - "

"Pawn shop jewelry and your wife's leftover's don't make for the best consummation of a serious relationship - plus I gave it all back. I'm worth more than that Nicholas! I'm worth more than random fucks behind dumpsters and sneaking around town and pretending to not know you in public - "

"Where the fuck is this coming from babe? I mean - that's just us, you know? That's how we've always worked - "

"But it doesn't anymore. Not for me. I need you to understand that. So please, just get in your car and leave."

Somehow Nick's scowl manages to deepen, a slow burning seething that's building up despite the stillness in the air; it's menacing, full of what almost looked to be hate.

"It's cause of this fucker - isn't it?" Nick questions, glaring broad swords as opposed to daggers that pierce through Dave with a true desire to bleed him out slowly. "You don't wanna fuck me anymore cause of this son of a bitch, right? What are you fucking him instead? Huh?" Nick bellows the last word, causing Kurt to wince.

Dave steps up, no longer capable of giving Kurt the space to handle it on his own. His fists are locked to his sides, but balled up tightly none the less. Dave wonders how pissed off Kurt will be when he has to break his promise.

"That's it. I knew it. You're fucking this piece of shit, barely crawling out of the closet assmuncher with no fucking future - nothing to fucking show for shit! He doesn't even have a fucking car, Kurt! You're choosing that, over me?"

"Nick. Kurt asked you to leave. If you care anything about him at all, you'll do what he says."

"Or what? You gonna go ape shit and punch me out? Huh, Tank? I know man. I know that you can't do shit cause you're ass'll be fending off bear lovers in jail if you lay a finger on me. So c'mon man. Come lay me out. I know you want to."

Dave feels Kurt wrap his arm through his, a definite precautionary gesture. Dave shakes his head.

"Leave. Or I call the cops myself."

Nick takes a step forward, his hands raised in sync with each word spat.

"Karofsky. You know it's true, man. You can't give him shit. Being a fucking nurse maid to your sister and staying under Daddy's roof..." Kurt's hold tightens on Dave's arm. Dave is thankful because it might well be the only thing keeping him from punching Nick's face into un-indentifiable mush. "What kind of life would that be for him dude? You're a sad, washed up, divorced fucking alcoholic faggot, with no livelihood... Nothing. I see it dude. I see how you look at him. Don't think I've missed the way you were looking at him at the bar. Or how quick you were to jump in that fight. Kurt of course couldn't wait to tell me about that shit - How you're standing here right now... In the way, for a guy you'll never be good enough for."

They were just words. But somehow, they were forcefully burrowing themselves underneath his flesh, past his ego and into his heart. His lip had to be bleeding he was biting it so hard; a bold attempt to keep from lunging at the fucktard with every fiber of ferocity careening through his veins. There are so many things he wants to say in response. But before he can manage to utter a syllable...

"And I still want him over you, Nicholas. You can stay out here if you want. I'll just call the cops from inside and you can talk it over with them."

Dave was stunned into speechlessness. Apparently so was Nick, as he stood there silently, his square jaw tight. Kurt slipped his hand into Dave's and began to guide him back toward the house.

The sudden explosion of pain caught him off guard. Nick was standing, fists drawn, and then swinging again, this time smashing into Dave's rib cage.

Dave pushes Kurt out of the way and then tackles into Nick, the sound of metal crunching underneath their combined weight as they slide over the hood of Nick's Porsche.

"Nick, stop it!"

Nick lands several wild blows on Dave's side and back, and manages to kick Dave away. Dave is standing at attention now, fists drawn and ready to strike.

"You can have him Karofsky. All that little fag is, is my left overs anyway."

"Fuck you Harris!" Dave roars.

"Did you tell him Kurt? Did you tell him about all the times I had you screaming out my name while I fucked you senseless - "

"Shut it Harris!"

"Or the times I had you on your knees anytime I wanted - "

"David! No!"

Promise officially broken, sliced in half as Dave launched at Nick landing a solid blow to his side and a hook to that square fucking jaw of his causing it to snap to the side. Dave rammed into Nick as hard as he could, tackling him with such vigor that he lifted him off his feet and pushed him back into the driver side door with a loud bang that echoed across the driveway. He slammed his fist into that douchey face with quick jabs, Kurt's voice eventually overpowering his will to just keep punching until he couldn't.

"David! Please! No, more."

Dave looks up, shame overtaking the overwhelming fury that once propelled him forward just moments before. Nick crumpled, leaning over as he attempted to regain his breath, spitting blood onto the driveway.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

Dave and Kurt both look up to see Amy standing there, arms tucked firmly across her chest, pajama pants nearly dragging as she sets her barefeet in the grass.

"What the hell is this?" She tries again.

"Nick was just leaving Amy," Kurt deadpans. Nick had managed to get to his feet and was brushing himself off.

"I think that'd be best," Amy concedes, glaring at Nick who spits out another mouthful of blood and retreats, pulling open his dented door with a ferocious yank.

"Let's get you guys inside. I'll get you some ice - shit! - Dave!"

The scream gave him just enough time to catch the hit in the shoulder. Dave buckled, another powerful hit cracking over his back.

"Nick! STOP!"

Dave peers over his shoulder and takes in Nick charging toward him, a bat held firmly in his grip.

"Another step and I'll blow your head off!" Another deep voice booms. Dave watches as Nick's eyes glaze over with terror and the bat slips from his hand, bouncing off the gravel and rolling away into the grass.

"W-what the fuck, dude?"

Dave stands up slowly, his hazel eyes also widening as he observes Finn, that manic look in his normally warm eyes as he clutches tightly to what looked to be an M-16 assault rifle, aimed directly at Nick's heaving chest.

Everything grows quiet except Finn's slow descent over the driveway, gun trained expertly on the dirty blonde head.

"Finn, put it down," Amy commands quietly.

"Enemy contacts closing in. Got one locked in at 12 o'clock. I have a clear shot, sir."

Nick's hands are held up in surrender, his eyes clouded by rapidly growing fear. Dave's shock is rendering him incapable of motion, that and the pain shooting through his body from the aftermath of heavy contact from the bat.

"Dude - I- I'll leave. I'm going -just put that shit down - "

"Bastard's trying to talk his way out. Don't fucking move!" Finn bellows into the night.

"A-alright man, just - fuck - please - don't kill me," Nick begs, tears now rushing down his cheeks.

"Dad?"

Dave and company turn to see Jamie and Danny, both standing just beyond the threshold of the front door, their eyes wide with uncertainty. Finn however has failed to notice, his eyes boring into Nick without fail.

"Kurt - get the girls inside," Amy again commands with a sure but quiet voice. There's a moment of hesitancy, Kurt catching Dave's eye for the briefest moment. Then he nods, immediately trekking toward the girls and ushering them back inside the house. Dave's eyes are volleying between Amy and Finn, watching to see if he could maybe grab the gun away if Amy can provide enough distraction.

"We're running out of time. I gotta take him down now!"

"Jesus Christ! What the f-fuck is his problem?" Nick cries out, a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a whimper.

"Finn, put it down. It's me, honey. It's Amy - "

Finn doesn't seem to be registering anything but the mission in his own head: the task in which he was obviously supposed to take out Nick. Dave was making very gradual progress as he side-stepped toward the commotion, trying to get to Finn without disturbing him enough to accidentally pull the trigger.

"I can't let this one go. We've got too many in the perimeter -"

"Yes you can. P-please dude. Stop - just l-let me go - "

"Finn you're at home, you're not in Iraq," Amy calmly continues.

Dave notices Kurt re-emerge, closing the door behind him. His blue eyes wide with fear as he watches the scene unfold.

"Too many lost. Too many times - You'd take me if I didn't get you first," Finn reasons quietly, his trigger finger squeezing tighter.

"FUCK!" Nick screams.

"Finn, No! DAVID!" Kurt screeches. Dave doesn't register making the move until he's already there, standing in front of Nick...

Finn rains several shots against Dave's chest. Dave gasps, his hand grabbing at his shirt where he was struck, taking a few steps back due to the force of impact.

"T-there's no blood," Dave eventually chokes out. He looks up and sees Amy gently taking the gun from Finn's grasp, whispering softly to him. She drops the weapon on the ground and reaches up to trail her hand over his flushed cheek, making him look into her eyes. Nick is behind him, sobbing to himself while comically kneeling into an awkward ball-like position.

"You're home baby. You're here with your family. Nobody's going to hurt us or you. Please, let's go inside," Amy coo's in a light tone.

Kurt rushes forward, his hands clutching against Dave's chest, searching for any sign of trauma or blood stains. It was then that Dave recognized the small white pellets lined by his feet.

"It's an airsoft gun."

"Yeah," Amy answers while still holding Finn's gaze. "We don't keep any live guns or ammo in the house."

"W-what?" Nick moans, rising into a standing position as if he hadn't just been curled into a life size ball mere seconds before.

"Video games are one thing. An _actual_ gun is another."

Finn is grinning stupidly at her, his face contorting into the normal, passive, warm version of itself that they were all used to seeing.

"It's a fucking fake? You just threatened me with a fucking fake gun?"

"Seems that he did. And I think it's best for you to get off my property before the police arrest you for public indecency as well as trespassing," Amy comments off-handedly, her eyes drifting over Nick's crotch area.

Now that Dave's surge of adrenaline was dying down, he couldn't help the smug smile that overtook his face upon noting Nick's piss stained pants. Kurt's hands fly over his mouth, a sign of both mingled astonishment and amusement.

"Fuck you, you twink piece of fucking slut trash. I don't need your ass anyway. Fuck all of you!"

Nick huffs, his feet automatically backing away as he clumsily pulls open his car door, nearly slips on the bat as he picks it up and ducks into his douchey red Porsche, peeling off as he speeds out of sight.

"Goodbye Nick," Kurt whispers into the night air.

Amy has successfully pulled Finn into the house, the front door left open for Kurt and Dave to follow behind. Dave ducks down and picks up one of the air soft pellets from the ground, examining it closely between his forefinger and thumb.

"I should kill you, you know," Kurt states playfully, but an underlying sense of tension noticeably winding in between each word.

Dave breathes out a laugh. "I think I would've woken up just to kill myself again if I would've actually died for that asshole."

"Come on liar. Let's go inside."

Kurt is holding out his hand which Dave takes without a moments hesitation, both men entering the Hudson home hand in hand. Dave shakes his head, knowing full well that despite his failure to keep his promise, Kurt had somehow understood and graciously refrained from giving him shit for it.

Damn he loved that man.

* * *

**A/N**: Somebody (*cough, cough* **Renirabbit**) called that one regarding the tweens finding interest in each other beyond friendship. Nice use of the rose tinted glasses. I know this one was angsty and had bursts of random fluff and violence but it was a joy to write and I hope you guys dug it. If you're ready for some smut clap your hands *clap, clap*... Lol. I'm a dork. Bless me. Please bare with me, I'm working on the next one in between slaving man hours at my job. I'll try to get it up much sooner than this last one.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Yay! True, honest to goodness smut! I know it's been a bit of a wait but hopefully this chappy successfully gives you the tingles. It definitely did for me even just writing it. Let me know your thoughts! Reviews keep me going.

**Disclaimer:** You already know what's up by now but just for old times sake, I owns none of it.

**Warnings:** Ummm... I said smut right? Right, and obviously slash. So there you have it.

* * *

The water cascades down his skin, tangling into his chest hair and descending in tight ringlets down the concaves of his torso and back.

His eyes are closed, the steam feeling perfect as the water plasters his curls to his head and his hands which are splayed against the tile in front of him keeping him centered.

He keeps replaying it all in his head...

Looking into Kurt's crystalline eyes without a care... Capturing his sister's unexpected moment of bliss and truly realizing that - yes - she had indeed grown up... Touching Kurt the way he had, kissing Kurt like he was starving, noting how far he'd come as a human being just through his interactions with the man... Hurtling into metal, being struck with a wooden bat and finally by pellets that may just as well have been actual bullets...

The idea that he could've died tonight...

He wanted to wash it away. He wanted that thought to be alleviated and cleansed from his mind; eradicated from his memory... Finn could've killed him right then and there, and would have if it hadn't been for the gun being a plastic replica that shoots little white versions of pain, not death as it were. The worst part was that Danny would've been subjected to seeing him like that, dying as he bled out onto the curb; she would've had the unfortunate experience and knowledge of seeing her older brother die on account of some unfamiliar asshole who drove a stupid porsche and was most certainly full to the hilt of self hatred.

Dave could feel the tears welling up and then spilling, melding into the pathways of water flowing along his skin.

He's not sure how long he's been in the shower. It feels like a considerable amount of time, but he can't be absolutely sure. Hell, lately it's like he can't be absolutely sure about anything; except that he was currently standing in Kurt Hummel's shower.

Kurt had insisted that they give Amy space to keep Finn calm and that it was best for the girls to simply return to bed since there was no 'real' danger to speak of, so they decided to head to Kurt's aparment. Kurt encouraged Dave to shower as a way to soothe the apparent bruising he suffered from his brawl with Nick prick and to induce some sense of relaxation.

Minutes later he was leaning against the shower wall, his face pressed into his folded arms, directly exposed to the heavy spray of water. He thinks he vaguely registers the sound of shuffling, and then the sliding of the shower door, but he ignores it, lost in his own thoughts and the feel of the water.

More tears find their way down his cheeks as a pair of warm arms encircle him from behind, soft hair tickling his back as the feel of a body leaning into his from behind re-awakens his emotions into a slow churning boiling pot.

He doesn't hide it... He let's his feelings overwhelm him, his heavy shoulders rising and falling in time with his quiet sobs. The pale arms are solid, holding him steady as he releases everything, eventually settling his own arms over the pair holding him, still facing the shower wall.

The kisses are perfect. Not intrusive or harsh, but not too soft or underwhelming. The pressure of soft lips levelling across his back are simply perfect... butterfly kisses spanning over the wet skin causing his cock to twitch. He then feels the caress of sure digits running along his back and before he can utter a sound, a hand wrap around his already aching cock.

Dave practically melts forward, his head once again leaning into the shower wall as the smaller hand engulfs his cock from behind and slowly begins to stroke. The rhythm is initially slow, teasing. Then it picks up, a steady increase in pace that erects every nerve of his member, the pre-cum intermingling with the water as the hand pumps expertly.

He wants to tell him to stop, that he's going to cum any second, but he doesn't. Instead he lets himself erupt over the hand, nearly losing his hold on the wall as he spurts his cum with a animalistic grunt.

As his breathing returns to normal, he manages to stand up right and turn to face him for the first time since he'd entered the shower.

Fuck... He'd imagined this scene before. Maybe hudreds of times. But nothing is better than seeing Kurt, feeling him within his embrace, lithe body perfectly smooth, a pretty cock tinged pink and aching, here - right here, and so very real.

The irises of his blue eyes are full, blown wide open with need. His lips are slightly parted, the pink hue even darker due to his assault across Dave's back. Dave can't help but smile as Kurt slowly drags his hands over Dave's chest, exploring the muscle and traversing the hairs with a tentative curiousity. Then Kurt kisses a trail along where his fingers have already graced the skin, descending further, until he reaches Dave's stomach.

Dave immediately, but carefully pulls Kurt upright, shaking his head. Kurt is about to retort but Dave puts his finger over the pouty lips, and then dives in for a kiss. Kurt moans into it, both men kissing fervently and with everything they'd ever with-held in their constant flirtatious exchanges.

Dave could kiss this man forever, but he decided that in the moment, forever isn't necessary, not when he wants nothing more then to make Kurt feel as good as Kurt had made him feel. He kisses across the curve of Kurt's neck, nipping with his teeth as he makes his way downward, Kurt's breathy moans delicious to his psyche.

Kurt is watching him, the same steady gaze overwhelmed by desire as Dave kneels in front of him and without hesitation, takes the pretty cock into his mouth.

"Oh, God - David..."

Kurt is trying to stay upright, his hands spread across the shower, each holding to the opposite wall to avoid spiraling into a heap on the shower floor. When Dave licks the underside of his cock and takes the head in with a humming that reverberates over the shaft, Kurt's hands find their way in his hair, tangling into the short locks.

Dave smiles wickedly, a resounding 'pop' echoing as he releases the member, strokes it carefully, and then returns to a elicit a steady bobbing rhythm that's driving Kurt to thrust forward, meeting each draw on his dick with a durable rocking motion.

The pace is quickening, the hands in his hair more forceful as Kurt moans and calls out Dave's name...

"Fuck - Dave! Fuck!"

Kurt tries to pull away but Dave holds him still, lapping up the shooting liquid and swallowing as if each drop was a privilege, which to Dave - it was. Dave has to keep his hands on Kurt's hips to ensure he doesn't fall forward and melt into a pleasurable puddle.

Dave gets to his feet all the while kissing over random portions of porcelain skin. When Kurt's eyes open, he seems near tears, but the smile has never been brighter and full of something that Dave isn't sure he can place. They pull each other in for a kiss, hands roving over wet skin, tongues lavishing and now familiar.

Dave can't take it, not another second longer. He removes a hand in order to pull open the shower door and steps out pulling Kurt along with him; both men unwilling to stop kissing each other long enough to make sense of where they were going or any semblance of a plan. Dave may have in fact had one once... But it was hard to remember when they were thrusting against each other, Dave hearing Kurt's wanton moans hum through his body as he had the smaller man pressed against the sink, the searing yet delightful pain of Kurt's nails digging into his flesh with need... Right, that's what he'd meant to do...

Dave suddenly scoops Kurt up with ease, picking him up bridal style and marches into the bedroom laying him out on the posh bed. He takes a brief moment to hover over the other man, to catch his gaze in order to assess his feelings about their current position.

Kurt just smirks and pulls Dave down, crashing their lips together as if the few seconds of gazing were seconds simply wasted as they could've been kissing.

The urge is eating away at his very being. Damn... And he nearly loses it again when he finds himself between Kurt's long legs, their cocks rubbing exquisitely with each impromptu movement, Kurt now locking his ankles around Dave's broad back.

"Mmm... Please, David."

Dave is teething Kurt's neck when the words somehow make their way through the clouded haze of his desire.

"Condoms - where?"

"Lube - condoms - Mmmm, God - in the - side dresser."

He hates to pull away, even for a second. The contact was filling him with so much of everything, it physically pained him to go without it now that he's finally felt it.

He digs through the side table drawer and locates a condom, thankfully the gold packet was present, and a small bottle of lube. He rips the packet open with his teeth in his anxiousness, then realizes it's better to prepare Kurt first... Damn it had been a while for him hadn't it?

He crawls back over to Kurt, pulling the pert ass forward and making quick work of biting down his thighs and then over his ass, marking each globe with sharp sucks and nips. Then his tongue is buried inside Kurt, causing him to yelp in pleasure.

"Fuck, ooh, David!"

Dave tongues the hole vigorously, pushing into the muscle with thrusting motions that are causing Kurt to cry out.

"God - I need you - inside - now!" Kurt pants.

That's all Dave needs to hear as he pushes a single digit past the tight ring of muscle, bringing it out deliberately slow, a listlessness resulting in Kurt practically squirming underneath him. Dave chuckles as he pushes his index finger inside again, and repeats the motion until Kurt was begging to be filled.

He adds a generous amount of lube and inserts two more fingers, stretching him to the desired effect as he pushes in and out with increased speed.

"Fuck, oh, fuck me - please, David!" Kurt grinds out, his ankles locked in place, pushing Dave more fully into him.

"Anything you want Fancy," he growls, sliding his fingers free and hastily slipping on the condom.

As Dave lines up against Kurt's entrance, his eyes capture blue...

The haste and urgency begins to subside as Dave observes Kurt's perfect, flushed face. Dave smiles down at him and can't help but reach out to cup his cheek. Kurt closes his eyes, nuzzling into the hand, then places a chaste kiss on the inside of the palm.

Dave swallows Kurt's moan, kissing him thoroughly as his cock penetrates him, filling Kurt up with a pleasurable sensation mingled in with a dull pain. Dave can't help but hiss at the tightness, the overwhelming pleasure as Kurt directs him to move.

Ravishing Kurt, pounding into him until he couldn't take it was no longer Dave's priority. It was simply to savor this in its entirety; to enjoy the feel of Kurt wrapped around his cock, to touch him everywhere he had always imagined or dreamed of subconsciously, to make love to him how the man deserved...

And so Dave gradually shifts, stroking slowly and tasting Kurt everywhere while he writhed underneath him. Dave groans audibly, stating Kurt's name with abandon in between kisses; each muttered or cried word filling him with an incredible high.

Dave pushes into him, a snapping thrust that elicits a bursting moan from Kurt, his nails digging soundly into Dave's back. Their foreheads are resting against each other, Dave now pulling Kurt's hands above them, fingers interlocking as they move together.

The movement becomes more erratic, each thrust equalling a cry from Kurt, Dave nearly losing it at the sight of his marked ecstasy.

"David, fuck - DAVE!"

Kurt's squirts his load which oozes over his own stomach and chest. Dave continues to plunge into him, not a moment later spilling his own seed inside of Kurt's wet hole.

"Uhn, K-Kurt!"

He yells out, his hips slowing their pace until he's completely still, with the exception of his heavy breathing. He's still inside of Kurt and has no desire to vacate anytime soon. But he's worried he maybe crushing the lithe body underneath his own massive weight, so he moves to pull out.

"No! Not yet - please."

Dave barely manages to nod, and then pulls Kurt toward him, the smaller man rolling over and spreading himself over Dave's frame, his brunette hair beading with sweat tickling Dave's chest as he rests it there.

Dave forgets how long they stay in that position, sweating, covered in lines of cum, but glowing in the aftermath of their love making. Kurt is playing with the chest hair near Dave's nipples causing the buds to harden in response, his head tucked in the crook of Dave's neck as Dave calmly strokes his side, his muscular arm draped over Kurt protectively.

It hits Dave full force then, hard, unrelenting and more then ready to surface...

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

There's a pause that ensues directly after in which David can feel his own heart beating incessantly.

"I know. I love you too Neanderthal."

Dave's smile feels like it's seriously breaking his face. Kurt breathes a contented sigh and proceeds. "I think I also fell head over heels for little David - or - well, not so little, David, I should say."

Dave kisses the top of Kurt's head and settles himself comfortably into position, his smile radiating a tad bit of smugness that he would never willingly admit to.

Dave ends up staying inside of Kurt the rest of the night. Kurt lets him.

* * *

**A/N:** I think through my writing I've discovered that I must seriously have a thing for shower sex or sex involving water(if you've read _Crazy_ _Hearts_ then you know what I mean). Go figure.


	25. Chapter 25

Fuck.

He was sore. Like - really sore.

True in the midst of his thrusting and nearly acrobatic performance with Kurt last night he barely registered the pain. It was easily trumped by fast coursing arousal and sheer erotic, toe curling pleasure.

But today, he feels exactly like he'd been hit square in the back with a fucking bat.

Fucking Nick prick.

Fucking heavy ass wooden bat. Fucking wooden bats in the hands of stupid pricks.

He groans when he attempts to sit up. He's halted by the feel of something cool on his skin.

"Lie still. This might help."

Dave slumps face first back onto the mattress allowing Kurt to caress some sort of substance onto what he presumed was the location of some grotesque bruises.

"Hopefully it'll keep your muscles from cramping and ease some of the pain. I also have some pain killers on the bed side table when you're ready."

"Mmm. That feels good."

"I'm glad. Do you think you're up for eating? I was going to make us something."

Dave grins happily but then he's hit by a reality check when a familiar bespectacled face swims in his mind's eye.

"Sounds perfect, but um - what time is it?"

"About 11:30. Why?"

"Danny. She's gotta get back or my Dad's gonna freak and hold her captive the rest of the summer."

Kurt continues to rub in the ointment and responds with a sense of ease, "I called over there a little while ago. Amy said your Grandma Mary was planning to head over around noon to pick her up."

Dave huffs. He knows that he could simply allow his Nana to handle it. But something feels wrong about it - like there was some other force pushing him to reject the notion and instead take on the task himself.

"I'd love nothing more than to stay with you and have a proper breakfast. But I have to ask you a favor."

Kurt's fingers slow into a light, barely there caress, until they halt completely.

"Anything you want Mr. Karofsky."

Dave practically beams a hole into Kurt's face at the playful retort.

* * *

It was awkwardly silent as Danny looked out of the window, a neutral expression on her face. Kurt thankfully had agreed to give Danny a ride home from Finn's place.

There were so many things to bring up, the same pattern of things left unsaid solidifiying between them, reminding him of his strained relationship with Paul Karofsky.

Dave was struggling. He wanted to pose direct questions - cut to the chase, but he knew his sister well enough to know that approach only resulted in her withdrawing further into herself.

Danny caught his eye in the side view mirror.

"What?" she barks.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, I guess. You look like you ate a serving sized bowl of Lisa's spinach casserole - by yourself."

Dave chuckles. "You remember that?"

"Yeah. You had to drink like ten beers just to get the taste out of your mouth."

Dave smiles, his eyes narrowing as he observes her in the mirror, his mind slowly coming to a decision.

"I didn't have to drink that many beers kid, I just chose to."

Kurt shifts in his seat, readjusting himself as he breathes out a sigh. Dave keeps his eyes trained on his sister, waiting.

"She cried. Later that night - I saw her," Danny reminisces. "You acted funny after. Like you didn't care about being honest and didn't just let her yell - you yelled back, a lot. She left the bathroom door cracked open, and I saw her face... she was really sad."

Dave swallows, his jaw setting tightly as the good humor dwindles away, seeping out of him with every second passed.

"Danny - Dad wasn't wrong for wanting me to leave. Maybe part of the reason was wrong, but I have a problem that I needed to work on. That night with Lisa was an example of it - one of many."

"Drinking?"

"Mmhm - yeah."

Danny shakes her head. "But you're not some alcoholic. That's not you - "

"Yeah. It's not all of who I am, but it's a part. And who I was when I was drinking was that guy who couldn't keep my job, who hurt people... Who just didn't care about himself anymore. But I needed time to start the process of getting better - to really work on myself, and Dad knew it."

"That's not why he threw you out." Danny deadpanned in a monotone voice.

"No. Not entirely," Dave counters.

Suddenly, her voice wavers, and a few stray tears slowly meander down her cheek. "He's gonna hate me," she whispers.

"What do you mean kiddo?"

Danny shakes her head, pushing her glasses up so she could wipe away her tears.

"He didn't want you around b-because - you l-love, Kurt. He'll k-kick me out too, if he knows."

"Knows what?" Dave breathes.

"T-that I'm like you."

Kurt's knuckles are whitening with the harshness of his grip on the steering wheel; his blue eyes leaking quietly as he stares ahead at the road. Dave's heart is absolutely aching for his sister.

Dave turns to look at her over his shoulder, knowing full well that eye contact through the mirror would no longer suffice. She needed to understand...

"Danny, Dad loves you very much. I even think that deep down, he still has love for me too. He just - he doesn't understand. And when people don't understand something, they do what they think is the best thing, which is push it away - "

"Like what you did to Kurt?" she asks quietly, a sense of mutiny underlying the tone.

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Why would you do that? How could you do that if you cared about him? I don't get that!" she spat, anger pouring into her once quiescent disposition. Dave had a feeling that part of her words weren't meant for him, that maybe a certain blonde was partially deserving.

"Why would you even like him after everything he did?" Danny poses at Kurt. Kurt looks over at Dave who gives him a subtle nod of permission. Kurt exhales a deep release of air, poising himself in order to broach this terribly heavy subject.

"I've never hated anybody in my life, until I met David Karofsky."

Dave feels a familiar shooting pain stabbing at his insides with those words. He braces himself the best he can for whatever was next.

"There was a time when his taunting and bullying made me... hate myself - made me feel inhuman. Like I was nothing. But as I got older, I suppose I came to understand something. That Dave's bullying wasn't really about me. It was because he didn't like himself or accept himself for who he truly was. I _love_ him now Danny, because I know that people make mistakes when they're scared or feel alone. And sometimes, there's a thin line between love and hate."

Dave eye's are brimming with tears but he doesn't look at Kurt. He just takes it as a good sign when he feels their fingers interlock, Kurt's free hand holding tightly to his.

"So it's better to be honest. Right?"

"It can be hard. Sometimes one of the hardest things you'll ever have to do, but after the smoke clears, you'll be happier with yourself. Trust me kid, I'm years overdue for that lesson," Dave explains, returning Kurt's comforting squeeze.

They sit in silence for the rest of the way, which happened to only consist of less than five minutes. When they come to a stop, they're greeted by the sight of Paul Karofsky himself, standing on the front lawn, one large hand hidden away in his khaki pants pocket, the other clutching a glass full of a brown-ish colored liquid. Two guesses what that could be...

Danny wastes no time as she slips on her back pack and clambers out of the back seat, marching determinately forward.

"Should I maybe - "

"No. Just stay here for now. I'll go," Dave states coolly as he steps from the Navigator and follows along in Danny's wake.

"Hey sweetie. So how was it?" Paul was asking as Dave made his way up the lawn toward the pair.

"I kissed Jamie. And I liked it."

"W-what?"

"I like girls Dad. I have for a long time. I didn't tell you cause I was scared you'd think I was a freak like everybody else at school. I didn't want you to not love me anymore."

"Danny - I - where is this coming from?"

Dave didn't miss the accusatory glare shot in his direction immediately following the question.

"Davey is perfect the way he is. And so I am. And we both love you. So figure out what you want. I'll be up in my room skyping the girl I kissed. If you're gonna kick me out, I suggest you do it before dinner time so that way Grandma Mary won't miss her movie night."

And with that, Danny left them alone, disappearing inside the house without a second glance.

Paul downs the rest of his drink, Dave watching him with a careful eye. Then Paul shakes his head, a rough laugh permeating the tense silence.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," he comments with a disbelieving chuckle.

"What are you talking about?"

"Now she thinks she likes girls David."

"What, you think I turned her gay?"

"I think you had a definite influence - "

"I didn't even know anything about it until yesterday - "

"Yeah but she knew about you. It's not exactly hard to figure out, even for a twelve year old when you're hanging out with Kurt all the time - "

"Leave him out of this!"

Paul sneers, shaking the left over ice in his glass around causing it to rattle and clink.

"I thought you said that's what this was all about? That everything had to do with him, right?"

"It does for me. Not for her. She's her own individual person Dad. Stop treating her like she's some extension of me - "

"She worships you David. Everything you are, and everything you do. How can you expect her to make up her own mind under that kind of influence?"

"Because she already has. Her feelings, her thoughts, her desires, they're all hers. That's why she struggles to fit in. Because she's always been the type of person to have her own way of thinking, to just be herself despite everybody else. Now she finally has someone in her life who appreciates that about her. Don't punish her because you're pissed at me for being a disappointment to you."

Paul appears thoughtful for a moment, his dark eyes trained on Dave, the rattling sound from the glass ceasing.

"I love you, Dad. Even if you hate who I am, I'll still love you. And I'll always love her. And I don't want her to turn out like me anymore than you do. I want her to learn to love herself early enough, that she'll be able to deal with the shit, that I had to drink myself stupid, in order to handle. I can't help that I'm in love with Kurt, anymore than you could with Mom. And I'm not gonna be ashamed of it, I won't waste another second of my life, being ashamed anymore. I'm gay - but I'm still Dave. I'll see ya around, Pops." Dave then turns on his heel and returns to the car.

Paul stays put, his eyes volleying between staring at the over-grown grass of the yard and catching his son's eye.

When Kurt pulls away, Dave watches in the rearview mirror as Paul finally retreats into the house.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I am. My sister just came out."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yeah. And so did I. Officially, I mean."

"Wow..."

The silence isn't awkward in the least. It's suitable, comfortable. Kurt of course decides to break it.

"Who would've known that all you needed was a decent hand job to get that closet door swinging open. If that was the case, I would've done it years ago as a charitable venture."

Dave leans over and pecks Kurt's lips.

"The hand job was divine, but I think it might've had more to do with me getting to stick my dick in your ass. Just a guess."

"Crass. But likely true."

"You know you loved it, Fancy."

"Every inch, Mr. Karofsky."

"I did say, I love you, right?"

"Yes. But that's one thing I'll never get tired of hearing more than once."

"Good. Cause I think I'm getting gayer by the day, since I want to tell you like every other minute."

"That is pretty gay."

Dave pulls Kurt into a lingering kiss and sits back with a swift smile. "I love you, Kurt Hummel."

There's a moment in which the intensity of the words seduces them into a silent exchange, cajoling them into a brief spellbound state.

"Sooo gay."

Dave rolls his eyes, laughing jovially as he recaptures Kurt's hand within his own.

* * *

**A/N:** Fluffy, I know. I thought the guys could use a dose of it after the marathon of angst they've gone through. I like the idea of them settling down into their semi-coupleship, especially after doing the deed ;). The story is soon to come to a close. I feel it, a conclusion tickling the back of my neck. Not sure how much more is coming but the end is near. I hope you liked this chap (Danny finally got to get some much needed crap off her chest - woo woo!) Please review! I really love your guys feedback and thoughts.


	26. Chapter 26

Several weeks later, he was posted up on a bar stool gulping down a coke.

"Slow it down, Yogi. I have other customers who actually wanna have some coke to go with their rum."

Dave smiles over the rim of his glass, then makes an obnoxious 'smacking' sound as his lips depart.

"Think I may be addicted."

"Please don't say that word around me - and caffiene will stunt your growth, or give you menstrual cramps or something so can you not consume it in barrels, please? Watching you is making my bladder hurt."

"Does the term 'bunched panties' mean anything to you?"

"Unless we're talking about around my ankles then no. Here, give me that."

Dave rolls his eyes and allows Ian to take the empty glass from his grip. He groans, buffeting a billowing puff of air as the twink rinses out the glass, and then returns it, overflowing with water.

"Weird. I didn't know my Mom had a dick."

"The more you know," Ian sing songs irritably. Dave sips from his water glass while watching Ian scramble to get another bar patron a shot and refill an amber colored concoction for another customer.

"Seriously, what's your deal? You're snappier then usual - if that's even possible."

Ian exhales in a rush while using a rag to clean off the bar top.

"Kurt's running late and..."

"And?" Dave prompts.

"I just - I was expecting somebody that's all."

"Hm. Really? Do I know him?"

"Don't mess with me before I cage you and drop your ass off at Jellystone park for Ranger Smith to have his way with you."

"Sounds like something I should be thanking you for."

"God, you really have been around me too long. Can you watch the bar for a second? I really do have to pee now because of watching you drink an entire delivery truck full of coke."

"Make it quick. I'm not getting paid to do your job."

"Save it, Bear!" Ian retorts over his shoulder as he disappears into the bowels of the bar.

Dave peers down at his watch and notes that Kurt is indeed running a bit late. His eyes wander around the bar, taking in the DJ preparing a number for the opening Karaoke act, Minnie Monumentous engaged in conversation with several other drag queens near the stage.

It really was a rag tag establishment but damn if it wasn't welcoming and brimming with a sense of well worn community pride. Dave is smiling to himself when he's greeted by a handsome man dressed keenly in a dark polo shirt and jeans, his brown eyes nearly matching his skin tone. The last time Dave had seen the dude, he had a tool belt tacked to his hip.

"Hey. Dave, right?"

"Yeah. Hey man. Michael right?"

"Yeah but you can just call me Mike."

"Cool. Can I get you something?"

"Just a water would be great."

"Coming up."

As Dave fills a glass with the clear liquid, he can't help but smile at the dawning realization that this was likely Ian's reason for his earlier anxiousness.

"So Mike - what brings you here?"

"Oh, Ian asked me," he shares before taking a generous draw from his water.

_Check mate._

"Huh. That's cool." Dave pauses and then states, "to _this_ place?"

"Mmhm," Mike answers, no real emotion to the remark.

Dave decided to cut to the chase, if anything because his own pride was at stake.

"Dude, please don't be offended by this - I just gotta ask. Are you gay?"

Mike smirks, then takes another resounding gulp from his glass.

"Do I look gay?"

"For all intents and purposes, no. But when does that ever matter?"

"Exactly," he replies cryptically.

"Sooo... You aren't gay."

Mike chortles, slapping his now empty water glass down.

"I get it. I look athletic, don't have a ring, I do a job that's catergorized as a 'man's' occupation. I get why you'd wanna size me up. Ian's pretty special and I know you care about him - "

"Oh. Oh, no. It's not like that, trust me - "

"I know man," Mike divulges, a deep chuckle escaping again between words. "I mean you care about him being hurt. As his room mate. I get it. I'm not a down low brother if that's what you're getting at. I've never been to jail, never even been arrested - "

"Well, you've got one up on me. Two, if you count me as a brother."

Mike's definitely not Dave's type, but he can see the appeal. His smile is like a twinky bug zapper, drawing them in with an allure that holds them captivated before the 'zap', unfolds.

"Well look who's here," Ian utters in a candid manner.

That mega watt smile is seriously blinding, causing a glare to come off the bottles stacked up in the bar as Mike stands up to give Ian a quick hug.

"Sorry I ran a little late. Had trouble finding the place."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you made it. I see you two have already been talking."

"Just catching up," Mike explains. Dave simply nods to affirm the statement.

"Oh, and this is for you."

Mike pulls out what looks to be a star gazer lily, tinged with hues of violet and pink.

"Oooh thank you so much honey. That's beyond sweet," and as Ian takes the flower and pulls the larger frame into a hug, he mouths the words, "totally gay," to Dave.

Dave can't argue with that one. Seemed he'd completely lost that battle - but couldn't have been more excited to have been wrong judging by the way Ian was smiling up at Mike.

"Seriously. Where the hell did you pull that from? If you're a magician, I might as well give up on being gay all together cause I won't stand a chance against freakin' magic," Dave announces.

Mike rubs the back of his neck, his smile minimizing slightly, reforming into a more shy expression.

"Yeah it was sort of tucked in my pants, underneath my shirt. Practically had to hold my breath so I didn't crush it when I was sitting. Kind of corny I know, but I'm a sucker for surprises. I always assume other people are too."

"It's perfect sweetie. Thank you," Ian confirms, his voice carrying a sense of appreciation that Dave was un-used to hearing. Ian genuinely seemed to like this guy and thus far, Dave approved.

Dave relinquished his bartending duty back to Ian who was now leaning over the bar and flirting rather shamelessly with the cable guy. Dave returns his attention to the front of the bar area where the stage was, Minnie Monumentous beginning to give her opening schpiel.

"Good evening Ladies, Gentleman, Lady-gents, Queens, and everything else in between."

The bar erupts in wolf whistles and excited clapping. Minnie continues, winking out at a nearby twink who was blowing her a kiss.

"I'm your host Minnie Monumentous," more clapping and cat calls ensue. "Thank you babies. Now we're here tonight as always to pay homage to the power of song. So welcome to our humble little Karaoke night here at Scandals. First up, the love of my life, our very own little Porcelain Prince."

And that would explain partly why he'd been late.

Kurt hops up on the stage, his hair styled in a choppy, yet perfectly blended mess that made Dave want to run his fingers through it, his lean build clad in a skin tight, short sleeved dress shirt, a thin patterned scarf tied to the side of his delicious neck, and of course the tightest attestment to skinny in a man's pant ever witnessed. Dave could already feel his hard on filling up, ready to stand at attention.

"This one's for you Yogi," he voices into the microphone, blue eyes casting a fierce sensuality his way that did nothing to alleviate Dave's growing boner.

_**You're all I ever wanted**_  
_**You're all I ever needed, yeah**_  
_**So tell me what to do now**_  
_**'Cause I want you back**_

Dave is beaming, unable to stop himself from mouthing the words 'you're a dork,' which only causes Kurt to grin harder, following the gesture with a saucy wink.

_It's hard to say I'm sorry  
It's hard to make the things I did undone  
A lesson I've learned too well, for sure_

He's pacing the stage, an elegant quality to his movements that reminds Dave of something that was supposed to be witnessed in some big broadway production, but fuck if these people weren't blessed enough to see it in small town Lima.

_So don't hang up the phone now_  
_I'm trying to figure out just what to do_  
_I'm going crazy without you_

**_You're all I ever wanted_**

And Kurt is pointing directly at Dave, his eyes narrowed in a seductive leer.

**_You're all I ever needed, yeah  
So tell me what to do now_**

He turns abruptly and does a body roll motion that sends rivets of wild shouting through the audience.

**_When I want you back_**

_Baby I remember_  
_The way you used to look at me and say_  
_Promises never last forever_

Kurt does one of his patented high kicks, resulting in the din of the crowd pulsating, growing increasingly enthused. He jumps off the stage as the bar patrons begin to clap in tune with the song.

_I told you not to worry_  
_I said that everything would be all right_  
_I didn't know then that you were right_

**_You're all I ever wanted_**  
**_You're all I ever needed, yeah_**  
**_So tell me what to do now_**  
**_When I want you back_**

Kurt slaps a couple of high fives as he struts through the bar, stopping to allow a biker wearing a mesh top slap his ass playfully. Dave shakes his head as he chuckles to himself. Always the consumate performer no matter if it's on a play stage housing hundreds or a dilapidated bar housing a few drunken queens.

_Yeah  
I want you back, oh yeah... _"And here's the breakdown," Kurt delivers, jutting his hip out and finding Dave's eyes from across the bar.

_You're the one I want_  
_You're the one I need_  
_Boy, what can I do_  
_You're the one I want_  
_You're the one I need_  
_Tell me, what can I do_

...

"Need a little help guys," Kurt orates, moving slowly as he flounces toward Dave, a sashay that is nothing but pure Kurt Hummel._  
_  
**_You're all I ever wanted_**  
_(You're the one I want)_ - the bar patrons sing back.  
**_You're all I ever needed _**  
_(You're the one I need) _- more raucous and happy this time as their blustering sounds more cacophonous, nearly the whole bar singing the part.  
**_So tell me what to do now_**  
_(Tell me, what can I do) _  
**_When I want you back _**

**_You're all I ever wanted _**

Kurt has managed to make it to Dave, his blue eyes steely, the irises large as they engulf Dave's orbs in a passionate stand still.

**_You're all I ever needed_**

Kurt drapes his free arm over Dave's shoulder.

**_So tell me what to do now_**

He climbs atop Dave, settling easily onto his lap as he straddles him.

**_When I want you back_**

Kurt breathes out the last words, then crashes his lips to Dave's with complete abandon. The bar erupts in a wall of sound, some even providing a standing ovation at the display. Kurt has both arms around Dave's neck, Dave holding him in place as they kiss feverishly and openly.

Kurt pulls away with a beaming smile, then places another quick peck to Dave's lip before sweeping back to the stage to hand Minnie the microphone.

"Well I'll be damned Porcelain. I didn't think anybody - well, besides our dear Yogi of course - could make a boyband remotely fuck worthy after the post apocalyptic backlash following the 90's. Brava my dear. Brava. That's going to be a hard act to follow. I'm wondering if we'll have any takers brave enough."

Dave tunes out Minnie's voice however when Kurt comes striding back up to him, slinking his arms over his neck and pulling him into another searing kiss.

"Get a room!" Ian calls out, resulting in Kurt rolling his eyes and throwing a nearby dish rag in his direction. Ian throws it limpy back and then screeches, "and get your ass behind this bar! This ain't a one man ship you know, Mr. 'I wanna be casually late so I can sing a song to my Bear of a boyfriend and shoot him googly bedroom eyes while I serenade him with the gayest song ever recorded' - other than any choice record from the Village People, of course."

Kurt bites his lip, shooting mock daggers at Ian who's sporting a wry grin at his snarky yet equally impressive retort.

"I'll be there momentarily. Now go change your tampon and give me a sec."

Kurt re-introduces his warm gaze onto Dave, looking shamelessly happy despite his recent griping exchange with his twink counterpart.

"So, Nsync, huh?"

Kurt shrugs, his arms still draped over Dave's shoulders, a coy smile accompanying the rising blush painting his cheeks.

"I was torn between that song and 'This I Promise You,' but that's too full of angst and whiny marriage proposal type content for even my taste. So I thought I'd just go for fun. Declarative, but fun. Plus I sort of owed you for your perfectly scrumptous rendition of a Backstreet Boys classic."

"I did say you were a dork right?"

"Well, judging by what I felt in your lap a moment ago, I think little Davey disagrees with your assessment."

Dave nudges Kurt's nose with his own. "It's cool Fancy. Nerds turn me on."

"Oafish, secret Backstreet Boy loving, Neanderthals seem to be my weakness. So, I guess we're even."

"A new comer. I love new comers," Minnie was reporting in an amused tone. "What's your name Daddy?"

"Paul."

Dave nearly dropped Fancy off of his lap. Kurt's eyes widened into saucer sized beacons as he met Dave's surprised gaze, then returned to looking up at the stage in clear disbelief. It was in fact his dad - Paul fucking Karofsky. Here - at Scandals.

"Alright then Paul. We have your song of choice cued up. Show us Scandalous folks how you newbies get it done."

Paul centers himself on the stage, looking extremely uncomfortable, but determined as he clears his throat, microphone positioned near his mouth. His dark eyes eventually settle on Dave.

_Don't go changing, to try and please me_  
_You never let me down before_

Dave feels his breath hitch. He knows this song...

_Don't imagine you're too familiar_  
_And I don't see you anymore_

It was a staple of his childhood, a song he remembered hearing during long car rides, or when his Mom was cleaning up the house, dancing around like an angelic creature so full of life...

_I would not leave you in times of trouble_  
_We never could have come this far_  
_I took the good times, I'll take the bad times_  
_I'll take you just the way you are_

Paul Karofsky, with his simple levi jeans, and collared golf shirt, the most mild mannered, reserved man to exist in Dave's world, was actually up on a stage in front of a group of strangers - gay strangers at that - singing in a deep baritone intonation that was pretty damn decent if Dave was being objective.

_Don't go trying some new fashion_  
_Don't change the color of your hair_  
_You always have my unspoken passion_  
_Although I might not seem to care_

Dave was nearly panting, his breathing so heavy as he kept his eyes locked on his Father, who returned the look unfailingly. Before he knew it, he was slowly making his way up to the stage as if drawn by an invisible tether.

_I don't want clever conversation_  
_I never want to work that hard_

Dave climbs up onto the stage, Paul looking directly at him as he delivered the words with a mode of passion Dave wasn't used to seeing from his dad - ever, really.

_I just want someone that I can talk to_  
_I want you just the way you are._

A spare microphone is thrust into his hand. He doesn't even bother to look at the screen, the lyrics long steaded in his memory.

_I need to know that you will always be, _Paul continues. Dave holds the mic up, a soft smile in his eyes as he sings out the next line._  
**The same old someone that I knew**  
What will it take till you believe in me - _Paul recites._  
**The way that I believe in you** - _Both men sing together.

Now they both alternate, Paul taking the first line, then Dave the next one, and vice versa.

I said I love you and that's forever  
**And this I promise from the heart **  
I could not love you any better  
**I love you just the way you are.**

There's a short breakdown, enough time for Dave to peer out into the audience and catch sight of his beloved Kurt, tears in his eyes as his hands cover his mouth in delighted astonishment. Dave smiles brightly, shaking his head as he again meets Paul's brown eyes staring at him almost sheepishly. Then they move into the next verse together, singing it entirely as a duet.

**_I don't want clever conversation_**  
**_I never want to work that hard_**  
**_I just want someone that I can talk to_**  
**_I want you just the way you are._**

As the horn blares out its final note, Dave stands stock still, uncertain if this had in fact happened.

Paul again clears his throat, the confident passion that was demonstrated in his performance slowly dissipating as he again brings the mic up, his eyes drifting out over the bar patrons as the clapping and jovial shouts eventually desist.

"Hey everyone. My name is Paul Karofsky."

"Hey Paul," a few greeted in return.

"Hi. I - um - I just wanted to say something, if you don't mind."

Several shouts of approval were shot back at him. Paul nods to signal his gratitude and proceeds.

"I'm a Father. Not a perfect one mind you, but I try my damndest to be. To do right by my kids, to be there for them. To tell them when I think they're making mistakes and help them learn from them."

Dave is completely dumb struck, unable to move in any capacity as he keep his eyes forward, boring into the man who was so long ago his ideal perception of a hero.

"This is my son David. And he's gay. Both of my kids are actually."

Dave swallows, the mic nearly slipping from his grip.

"See what I wanted to say - um - is that, I'm just as guilty David - for some of your poor choices. I'm guilty of not listening. I'm guilty of making you feel like you had to be something you weren't. That it wasn't safe or even good to just be yourself. And that makes me just as responsible. And I..."

Paul pauses, exhaling quickly to regain his composure, his dark eyes shining underneath the glare of the stage lighting; his voice now thick with emotion as he proceeds.

"I love you David. You and Danny both, very much. I've already lost one person who was so very special to me. I can't lose you guys too. Please forgive me, for not being better. Because I'm going to try, sincerely to make you both know that it's okay to be whoever you are."

Dave feels his lip trembling, his eyes likely mirroring the overlybright look of his Dad's. He puts out his hand for Paul to shake, the same gesture that he had always associated with his Dad - strong, not too personal, a formal display of affection.

Paul strides across the stage and pulls Dave into a tight hug, clapping his back with a vigilant spirit Dave hadn't felt in years worth of firm hand shakes.

Dave was sure the bar had never sounded this loud in all of the times he'd attended it, Drag night included. He thinks he hears a distinct wolf whistle over the din, and can't help but beam over his Dad's shoulder at the sight of Kurt whistling until he was red faced, wiping tears away as he bounced up and down, completely enraptured.

He's had a lot of happy moments as of late, but he's sure that none come close to this one. This one probably had its very own fucking zip code.

* * *

**A/N:** Paul finally gets it, and he got to express his feelings with some good old fashioned Billy Joel, who I don't own by the way (and if you haven't listened to that song 'Just the way you are' please check it out, pure easy listening goodness!), or coke, or star gazer lilies (which are beautiful very strange flowers), or Nsync. I hope the song parts weren't too confusing. Just to clarify, when Kurt was singing the highlighted portions just meant that it was the chorus. When Paul and Dave sang the highlighted parts were the parts that Dave sang or that they sang together. I did it that way to try to add to the imagery and not just let the song do all the talking. Let me know what you guys thought! Please and thank you!


	27. Chapter 27

"She loved her some Billy, I tell you. Oh, yeah. And this one," Paul pauses in order to indicate Dave with a nod, "would be trailing right behind her. Puttering around like a little maniac. His own little apron around his waist, carrying around a duster and dusting off the only things he could reach at the time. I used to love to come home to that," Paul concluded, smiling into his glass as he took a sip, his dark eyes twinkling at the memory.

Dave was seriously dumbfounded. His Dad was here with him, at Scandals, surrounded by Dave's loved ones from the other side of the straight tracks, talking about his Mom of all things. He couldn't help but remain quiet, watching in awe at the very unusual, but truly heartwarming display.

"She sounds like she was really amazing Mr. Karofsky."

"Diane really was - and it's Paul, Kurt.

"And you're telling me that you guys didn't figure it out then? The boy was actually happy to be dusting - in an apron," Ian quips sarcastically.

Surprisingly, Paul actually chuckles in response.

"You know. Now that you mention it. That was sort of suspect, wasn't it?"

"A bit. All that was missing was him trying on his Mom's makeup and leaving a trail of rainbow glitter behind his every step."

Paul snorted into his glass. Dave went completely red. Kurt immediately shot him a look of clear cut suspicion.

"Wait - you didn't!" Kurt remarks.

"He did," Paul validated.

"It was just once, I was curious - "

"I think maybe I'm missing something," Mike adds, his eyes roving over the pair in confusion.

"Our little Yogi thought he was a Disney Princess before he realized he was a Bear," Ian explained, lips puckering as he hid the obvious laughter behind a strained smile.

Paul's laughter however proved too infectious, and the others joined in, Dave rolling his eyes and tipping back his glass of water that Ian insisted he continue drinking as opposed to coke.

"Oh, babe. I bet you looked adorable," Kurt grins, placing a chaste kiss on Dave's cheek.

"I did," Dave defended. "Especially with the ridiculously red blush and the whore blue eye shadow. I would've been quite the catch on the kindergarten play yard."

Paul's giggling subsides and he quietly finishes his drink. His mood immediately appears somber as he recommences. "When I found out about it - I didn't know what to think. So, I told your Mom to keep her make up locked up, and to never let you do that again."

Paul huffs, his eyes running over Dave with an air of regret. "I was boxing you in, even before you made it into grade school. I really was a fool, Dave."

Dave grins wryly, giving his dad a respectable pat on the shoulder.

"You just sang a Billy Joel classic to me at gay bar in front of a party of drag queens I'm pretty sure wanna take you home. I think we're square."

"Plus - nothing can outmatch the power of the Joel," Ian bursts out excitedly.

"To the Joel," Mike adds, glass of water raised in salute.

"To the Joel," Dave concedes, their party raising their glasses in a loud discord of clinking glass.

Paul's laughing with abandon as he settles his empty glass on the bar and then pulls out his wallet.

"Not necessary, Paul. You're song was tribute enough. Trust me," Ian states.

"You sure?" He questions. "I wouldn't feel right - "

Ian simply pats his hand, gesturing for him to put his wallet away.

"If you keep it up, I'll make you pay the entire bar's tab."

Paul's eyebrow lifts, a clever smirk overtaking his mouth.

"Dave was right about you. Mouthy. But I think it's kind of refreshing. I get pretty exasperated with being around a lot of 'yes men' at my job so definitely don't change that."

Ian shoots Dave an incredulous look, his mouth pressed in a thin line. It was obvious Ian was completely dying to turn that particular comment into something sexually depraved and inappropriate. Dave's eyes widened, waiting for the inevitable with bated breath...

"Thanks. I'm glad somebody around here appreciates that about me."

Dave exhales, a long sigh that felt heavier than concrete mix.

"You're welcome, son. Well, it was nice meeting you all." Paul takes his time shaking each hand in turn. When he reaches Kurt, he pauses.

"Kurt. I'm very sorry about my earlier attitude toward you. I just - I thought I was protecting my son, for what felt like the right reasons at the time."

"We're all guilty of that at one time or another. It's really okay - "

"No, it isn't okay. See, you make him happy. Probably happier than I've ever seen him. And at the end of the day, that's good enough for me," and he unexpectedly pulls Kurt into a brief hug, patting him awkwardly on the back. Dave just laughs in response. Maybe being in a gay bar was in actuality a bad influence on his dad. It was turning him into a notorious hugger, which - let's face it - the guy was as natural at as he was at cooking a seven course gourmet dinner.

Paul pulled away, a lop-sided grin still present. He then looks over at Dave.

"I'd like to talk to you - outside, if that's okay."

"Sure."

As they make their way outside, Paul eventually comes to a halt several feet near the entrance to the parking lot. He pulls out a set of keys, dangling them between his forefinger and thumb for Dave to take.

Dave took the keys with a questioning gaze.

"Um - thanks?"

Paul chortles, shaking his head in a subtle fashion at Dave's confusion.

"I thought you might want it back. Probably getting a bit tired of public transport and having to have your friends drop you off."

Dave's eyes are shining with sudden realization as he scans the parking lot and hones in on a familiar vehicle, a freshly painted shade of a remarkably enticing blue, somewhere in between electric and royal, winking back at him under the glare of the parking lot lighting.

His Camaro... parked without a care and completely restored: new windows, chrome front grill, a replaced side view...

It was as if that night had never happened.

"Dad I - I don't even know..." He trails off, his emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

"Just say thanks and promise to take care of her."

"I, uh - thank you. And I will."

"Now, I best be off. Your sister's probably counting down the seconds. She's home with Beverly and you know how she can be."

"Yeah. Well at least let me give you a ride. It's the least I can do."

"No need. I have one already arranged."

And right on cue, a tell-tale honking blasted through the night air. Dave's smile somehow brightening even further at the sight of another familiar vehicle, this one in the shape of a forest green mini-van.

Dave laughs. He can't help it; his normal sarcasm finding its way back into his voice.

"How grown up do you feel right now?"

"Oh, somewhere between the first time I peed standing up and my first middle school dance. But you gotta admit, you can always count on that woman. Rain, sleet, or snow."

"She talked you into this right?"

"Partly. Most of it was your sister though. She was how I knew to find you up here actually. She got word from Finn's daughter via that facebook site."

"And Billy Joel?"

Paul smiles warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a deep seeded pleasantry.

"Just felt right. And I figured your mom would've approved."

Dave finds himself practically tackling his Dad, something he can't honestly remember doing on his own merit in years, into a firm hug... Damn this gay bar and it's powers of inciting this blasted huggery.

They pull back, Dave rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, a wave of sudden modesty enveloping him.

"You have good people in your life Dave. Truly good people. That's a rare and valuable find worth holding on to. Oh, and I nearly forgot, you should probably make time to thank Finn. He was the one that helped with the car. Wouldn't even hear about me paying."

Fucking Finn... that crazy but always lovable bastard. He was going to have to start keeping tabs on how much he owes the dude at the rate he was going. Maybe if they were lucky, they would be able to build up a life long list between the two of them regarding bromance deeds and favors; the details long since forgotten in their old age but forever joked about.

"Will do. Hey, Dad?"

Paul pauses mid-trek, hands buried demurely in his pockets.

"I love you."

Paul looks taken aback. Dave could understand why. Those were definitely three words that were never shared between the two of them - ever... Just something they assumed that they knew was there, buried within the handshakes and random voice mails lacking substance; never articulated verbally for the other to hear.

"I love you, too, kid. I'll call you?"

"I'd like that. Later Pops."

Paul nods and hops into Grandma Mary's awaiting chariot. The older woman is beaming as she waves merrily at her Grandson and then, in true Nana Mary fashion, peels away, dust swirling and clouding up the barren road as they disappear.

Dave is abruptly hit by a random idea, his Dad's portrayal of spontanaeity infecting him with his own desire to do something on a whim. He slides his phone open, sends Kurt a text, then waits.

* * *

**A/N**: Short but I hope sweet. Next is a chap that I honestly wouldn't have added if it weren't for the feedback I got in regards to the need for more smutty smut. So please enjoy because it's basically my treat to you for all of your dedication to sticking with me on this fic. **leftrightbrain**... I think you'll be happy to note that your suggestion was duly noted and utilized. Please hook me up with your continued words of kindness and support and everything else in between. Again the reviews help replenish me like spinach to Popeye... who I don't own by the way... um - and I still don't own Billy Joel *snaps fingers in frustration*


	28. Chapter 28

It's dark.

The only light is coming from natural sources, the luminescence cast by the moon and various stars, pulsating and shallow.

Well, that and his headlights shining out into the distance, the waters of the lake being pooled in a solid white-ish glow.

Dave used to come here with his family when it was just him and his parents. He feels the essence of so many memorable images swimming around him like ethreal beings; ghosts long lost in laughter, and scraped knees, and fishing poles.

He remembers coming here sometimes when he felt most lost as a teen. He takes that moment to look over at Kurt... One of the main reasons for his constant agitation and confusion during those visits.

Man how things can change when you stop lying to yourself.

They're tucked away in the backseat, Dave holding Kurt to him, the lean specimen pressed into Dave's chest as they sit in silence simply drinking each other in.

Kurt doesn't know the demons that have tainted this place: Dave's internalized monsters burrowing and exploding out of him in bursts of angry ranting, crying and cursing... his self hatred examined and brooded upon at this very particular spot.

He doesn't know about all the angels either. His mother for one, the sight he can still plainly envision of her splashing about with him in the lake, or telling stories over the camp fire... His dad actually laughing and being openly loving, the moments of assured patience with a younger much more precocious David, while teaching him how to properly cast a line.

"I used to come here as a kid with my Mom and Dad."

"I bet it was great. I can imagine what it looks like in the day light. But it's beautiful now - peaceful."

Peaceful... Funny. That was the one word that seemed to bridge the gap between the angels and demons... Both had been seeking peace. Many moments where it had been found or simply imagined, but still there, at least momentarily present.

Dave places a soft kiss to Kurt's hair.

"I came here a lot during high school trying to find that. Peace. I wasn't very successful. My problems would just follow me home the moment I left."

"That's because you can't leave yourself behind. You have to take yourself with you where ever you go."

Dave opens his mouth to speak but is immediately interrupted.

"Don't you dare give me another apology David. I don't want to hear another word about high school. I don't want to spend our entire relationship apologizing to each other. I just want to enjoy the outcome, bask in what we've gained maybe even because of the misunderstanding and craziness that was us back then. I refuse to live in regret about it. Especially now."

"Yeah," Dave deadpans, the soft chirruping of crickets filling the void as they drift back into silence.

"Do you know what my biggest regret was? Above all of them?"

"I thought we just established that we - "

"I need you to hear this. Even if it's just this once."

Kurt breathes out a sigh and remains quiet, his manner of giving Dave the go ahead. Dave clears his throat.

"It wasn't the locker checks, the stupid words, or even the kiss that I wish I could take back. The biggest regret - was that I didn't dance with you at prom."

Dave can barely make out a curious gaze etched into Kurt's soft features.

"That I didn't man up, take your hand and just say 'fuck everybody else', the way I wanted to. That I didn't just walk up to you earlier in the year - like I had practiced alone in my room on and off for months like a sad, pathetic ass clown, and tell you that I wanted nothing more than to take you to the prom."

The silence ensues, Dave wondering if maybe he should've in fact just kept his mouth shut. But then Kurt sits up, pushing the seat forward, and climbs from the car.

"What are you doing?"

"Take my hand Neanderthal," Kurt ordered, his hand outstretched for Dave to grasp.

"Oh-kay," Dave states with an air of uncertainty, taking Kurt's hand and clambering from the car, their hands still clasped together. Kurt pulls them a fair distance in front of the car so they're drowned in the light of the Camaro's headbeams. Before Dave can inquire the purpose of leaving the warmth and haven-esque environment of the car, Kurt is kneeling down before him.

"Kurt - seriously?"

"Hush. Now, David Karofsky. Will you go to fake prom with me?"

"Um - what?"

"I don't have a corsage or kilted prom wear this time around but I can still do a mean two-step. If you'll have me of course."

"Kurt, I think the car was feeling pretty nice - "

"You're totally ruining this moment. Will you at least dance with me?"

"There's no music. And the radio doesn't work way out here -"

"So - we'll use our imagination," Kurt reasons. "You said this is your biggest regret. I don't want to live with regrets between you and I anymore. So, dance with me Dave."

It was borderline idiotic, a gesture very akin to some crap that that damn glee club would do and find some self deluded solace in. But the way Kurt was staring up at him, his smile set perfectly, his blue eyes alight like fiery bursts of energy in the intensity of the head lights, Dave could only see it somehow as completely logical and held his hand out expectantly...

They started in a traditional waltz position, Dave holding Kurt's hand right hand firmly within his left, his other on Kurt's slim waist, and they moved, a generic but fluid two-step.

"I'm impressed Mr. Karofsky. I never would've taken you for the ballroom dancing type."

"You also never would've taken me for your type but I guess that's what we get for assuming."

Kurt giggles blissfully, allowing Dave to lead him. Eventually Kurt's head is lying against Dave's shoulder, his arms encircling around Dave's solid neck, their formalized two-step descending into a slight swaying motion that reminded Dave of something often witnessed during a middle school dance.

"Hey Fancy?"

"Hm?"

"For the record, I thought the kilt was hot."

Kurt laughs breathily. "My Dad wasn't much of a fan. Neither was Blaine actually. They were worried it would attract the _wrong_ kind of attention."

"Huh. Funny. I guess it didn't cross their minds to be worried over it attracting the right kind of attention. I remember having to sit in that stupid throne chair a bit longer just to calm little Davey enough to avoid a pants tee-pee."

He swears he can feel Kurt shiver against him. He almost asks if he wants to take his jacket but before he can utter a word, Kurt's hand is cupping his cock through his pants.

Dave groans against the top of the smaller man's head. He thinks he can feel Kurt smiling slyly, his hand working deftly over his dick and then making quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

The cool night breeze feels biting against the warmth of his pulsating cock but Kurt's hand replenishes the natural heat, engulfing the flesh, causing the skin to tighten with each stroke as he grew more stimulated by the touch.

Then the heat is replaced by a different kind of warmth: a wet heat that overwhelms his senses as Kurt slides his tongue over Dave's length, slowly, teasingly, and then takes it entirely in his mouth.

"Shit, babe," he hisses between clenched teeth, Kurt swallowing his member, his hand sliding in the wake of his succulent mouth causing Dave to practically whine with need. Dave can't help but card his fingers through Kurt's tresses as he feels his cock hit the back of Kurt's throat.

He hesitates, not wanting to make Kurt gag but the other man shifts, sucking over the length expertly and then pulls away with a slurping sound.

"Fuck my mouth," Kurt mewls, Dave nearly collapsing at the note of sensuality imbibed in the statement. Dave automatically responds, his hips thrusting forward as he pumps steadily into Kurt's mouth.

Kurt's hands are clutching to Dave's powerful thighs, digging into the jean material as Dave's pace quickens.

"Aw, fuck - Kurt!" He growls, his cock feeling engorged as it slid in between's Kurt's pursed lips, the impending explosion building with each buck forward.

"I-I'm gonna c-cum," Dave manages to mumble after several minutes of increased exertion. Kurt gives Dave a nudge, his mouth sliding off of his cock, a line of spit trailing from his lip. Dave doubts he's ever seen a sexier sight in his life.

"Not yet," Kurt notes huskily, applying several slow strokes over Dave's shaft before standing.

"I wanna fuck you David."

Dave's will power was seriously astounding. How he didn't explode right then and there was damn near miraculous. He nods, his breathing heavy as Kurt crashes their lips together, Dave tasting himself, the saltiness of his own pre-cum on Kurt's tongue.

Somehow they stumble back toward the car in a mass of tangled body parts, Kurt wasting no time as he pushes Dave over the hood, stripping his boxers down with a forceful tug.

Dave leans over the hood, the new paint job and potential of leaving a remarkable dent on his car not even a remote thought through the rush of desire dousing him with Kurt bearing down on him from behind, taking complete control.

"Don't move," Kurt orders with that same dark tone. Dave can only whimper in response when he feels Kurt's tongue slide over his ass, teeth then grazing his cheeks sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through his nerves. He jerks forward when Kurt spreads him open, tonguing his hole zealously.

"Mm, God - Kurt!"

Dave has never felt so vulnerable yet enthralled at the same time. It was exquisitely erotic. Dave jolts, his knees buckling slightly when Kurt pushes a digit inside of him, working in tune with his authoritative tongue.

"I like when you say my name. It makes me wanna fuck you until your screaming it."

Kurt pushes another finger inside Dave's tightness, Dave growling out a cumbersome moan.

"Kurt! Shit!"

Kurt is working Dave's hole open, stretching it with quick penetrating jabs.

"I need you David," Kurt barks. Dave can hear the sound of sand and gravel grating as Kurt drags himself up again, slowly pulling his fingers out of Dave causing him to wince at the mingling burning sensation from the recent pleasurable assault. Dave barely has time to exhale before he hears the distinctive sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open.

"Do you have lube in your car?"

"Nah - I think - hand lotion - in the glove box," Dave pants. Kurt wastes no time. Dave doesn't look up, his desire rendering him incapable of moving from his splayed position on the hood as he takes in the thudding sounds of Kurt rummaging through the glove compartment and the door shutting closed only a brief moment later.

Dave shivers at Kurt's cool touch running over his warm hole, the lotion oozing through his crack and being submerged inside of him with sure digits. There was a pause where Dave was sure Kurt was putting on the condom, and then a sated sense of revelry cutting into him as Kurt pushed his cock inside, the lotion allowing Kurt to by-pass caution.

"Ah! K-Kurt!" Dave growls, perpetual moans leaving his lips in a surge of desperation; a visceral need that only Kurt's cock could appease. Kurt answered each cry with a snap of his thin hips, his hands coming to rest on each side of Dave's waist to steady him, the smacking sound of flesh echoing across the landscape accompanied by hasty cries and cursing.

Dave was at Kurt's mercy - and fuck - was he being merciless with his surprisingly sound thrusts, each one coming that much closer to brushing against his prostate.

And then when Kurt has sustained a rhythmic grinding that's easily cajoling Dave over the edge, the change in angle allows for Kurt's cock to hit that very spot.

Dave is seeing stars like a fucking cartoon character. He's certain he's tip toeing the line, soon to dive over into his felicity. When Kurt grabs Dave's cock from behind, pumping his rod in sync with his fucking, Dave succumbs to every tittilating surge of pleasure that carries him into orgasm.

"KURT!" Dave yells in ecstasy shooting his seed over Kurt's fist. Kurt continues pushing into Dave, until his own motions are interrupted by the all consuming fire spitting inside of Dave, suffusing with their natural perspiration and the greasy tactility of the lotion.

"Oh, Fuck - David!" Kurt cries out, his pace slowing into an easy rutting, until his spasms leave him lying in a heap across Dave's broad back.

They stay like that, neither ready to move - to break the spell melding them into a single unit of spent energy left over from their relentless fucking. Dave was simply beyond words. Nothing could be said to further enhance or even justify this round of love making.

True most would peg Dave as a top. But damn did he love the opportunity to be a bottom. He was sure it had to do with the notion of letting go, abandoning one's pretense and truly giving your trust away to another. It was an act he considered highly intimate, at least for himself. He was more than happy to have obliged to Kurt's whim; excited at the fact that the effeminate man wasn't opposed to taking charge at times.

Dave immediately feels his cock swelling at the idea of eliciting power play. He liked the game of giving and taking, going back and forth with the essence of control. He unglues himself from the hood, Kurt slowly but surely pulling out of Dave as he righted himself.

Dave didn't need words when the thrill was enough. He began to kiss over Kurt's pale jaw line, sucking at his skin causing Kurt to hiss.

"Mmm, David."

And that's all it takes for the frenzy of desire to vivasciously invade him, instantly hardening his cock. He effectively removes his jacket, followed by his shirt and undershirt leaving him bare chested. Kurt is watching hungrily and then Dave rips Kurt's buttoned up shirt nearly in half as various buttons go flying into the abyss. He notes that Kurt remains speechless; no sign of complaint regarding the care of his clothing which truly surprises him.

Dave kicks off the boxers that are pooled at his ankles and now they both were facing each other, completely nude, bared and reeling with a want so full it threatened to drown them where they stood.

They crash together, Dave grasping Kurt's cock as they kiss fiercely. Kurt is moaning profusely, Dave swallowing each delicious groan as if it was quenching his very being, his entire entity relying solely on tasting Kurt's lips and feeding off his pointed exclamations. Dave has begun a steadfast stroking causing Kurt to drop his forehead to Dave's shoulder leaving his delicate neck exposed to Dave's sharp bites.

"Uhn, fuck. Dave - please."

He somehow manages to procure the lotion bottle, running his thick fingers along Kurt's crack and deftly swallowing Kurt's out-cry as he pushes the slickened fingers inside of him.

Dave kisses down Kurt's face, licking over the torso, taking a pink nipple into his mouth with diligent care. Eventually he's bobbing over Kurt's length, his hands digging through his jeans pooled on the ground as he kneels down to obtain a condom.

It was as if his desire amplified at the tell tale crinkling sound of the condom wrapper emanating from the pile of fabric in the dirt as he brushes over it with his finger tips. It had to be a record for him at how hastily the condom is secured on his dick, his mouth popping off of Kurt's pinkish, veined member. He rubs the lotion over his own cock, coating the condom with a pomaded film.

Dave picks Kurt up and practically impales him with his cock, keeping him hoisted over his waist as he takes advantage of his power to pound into him while holding him up.

"God - Dave - y-yes!"

He uses his own leverage to balance Kurt as he smashes his hips forward, his large hands gripping Kurt in place, one hand splayed across his pale back, the other grasping the back of his neck. Kurt is riding him, meeting each thrust with a pleasureable yelp, his arms anchored around Dave's neck.

"Oh - Oh, fuck. Dave - please - fuck me!" Kurt begs, panting with each re-entrance of Dave's gerth pressing into him.

Dave fucks Kurt with abandon, the sense of power and pleasure heady and strong as Kurt pummels Dave ass first, riding him hard as Dave holds him upright, a mid-air dance of heated flesh and sweat keeping them rooted to each other.

When Dave shifts slightly, gathering Kurt closer to him, his grunting and heavy breaths clinging to Kurt's slick skin, a hoarse shout tears from Kurt's throat as he throws his head back.

"DAVE!"

"FUCK!" Dave cries almost in unison, Kurt's name rolling off his tongue as he manages to gently lay the smaller man against the car hood, Dave collapsing atop him.

"K-Kurt - Kurt - Kurt -" he breathes out in a sated whisper, much like a mantra as he comes down from his physical high.

He's sure that they're covered in wetness compounded of cum, sweat, and remants of hand lotion - that his car is likely sporting a figure shaped indentation requiring formal body work- but none of it matters when his eyes rove over pale skin and get lost within blue. He cups Kurt's cheek and kissed him softly, his own hazel eyes no doubt reflecting the absolute adoration and pure sense of devoted love that were shining within the most fascinating blue he'd ever observed.

After several long moments of staying locked together, regaining control of their breathing and waiting for the world to slow down, Kurt speaks, an unmatchable joviality easily illuminated in the tone.

"Best. Fake prom. Ever."

"Seconded," Dave quips. There's a pregnant pause, and then the night fills with their bubbling laughter.

* * *

**A/N**: Yes - I know the fluff meter has been quite high as of late in this fic but I think **Kittybits** said it best: there was a balance needed. I had a lot of angst and drama during much of the beginning so some fluffiness was required to even things out. Especially since c'mon... doesn't Dave sort of deserve it after his rather crappy, angst filled existence? I hope you enjoyed the smut. We're almost there my dears. Please review and give me your thoughts.


	29. Chapter 29

So... He had officially fucked a substantial dent into his car.

The the very thing he'd promised his Dad that he'd take care of.

He wonders what his Dad would've said if he had notified him of the real reason behind the mysterious indentation. As far as Paul knew, some jack ass in the grocery store parking lot had laid their heavy groceries precariously on his hood, probably while trying to locate their car keys. Dave would like to keep it that way. He's happy his Dad has been coming around to the notion of him being gay, but he has a feeling that this particular disclosure might just be the thin straw waiting to be split in half and discarded after buckling the camel.

He shutters to himself while pushing open the glass door, a tinkling bell sounding off upon his entry inside.

The small lobby area is empty and no one's behind the service counter. It was in fact a Monday so the current scene made sense. It was considered a slow day in the land of car service.

"Hey Hudson!"

No response.

"Yo! Finn!"

Dave pulls his cell phone out with a huff.

"I'm calling you!" He continues to shout. "And I swear if you answer while dropping a deuce again -"

Dave stops cold at the appearance of a much shorter but so much more menacing figure glaring at him from over the service counter, a familiar baseball cap fused to his head, his piercing green eyes feeling as if they're peeling the flesh from Dave's bones.

The only sound is the snap of Dave's cell phone being shut as he meets the gaze with wide eyes, replacing his phone in his pants pocket.

"He ain't here. Took an early lunch."

"Oh. Okay. I can - um - I can come back, or -"

"No. Not necessary. What can I help you with?"

"Oh. It's - uh - kinda not really tires or anything."

Burt Hummel's eyes narrow into thin slits.

"You do realize that we're a tire shop, right?"

"Um - yeah."

"Now if we're talking regular car maintenance stuff, I can help you with that."

How does one explain to a guy that it was a stubborn dent left behind from a vivacious fuck session with their son no less? Right. You didn't...

"It's just some body work Finn said he could help with."

Burt's eyes are roving over Dave, clearly sizing him up.

"I'll have to have a talk with him about that. We ain't a body shop. I could probably recommend a guy that I send most of my customers to."

Dave swallows audibly. God this man still intimidated the shit out of him even after all these years.

"That'd be fine Mr. Hummel. Thanks."

When Burt turns to walk back inside the door leading into the garage portion of the shop, he stops short and turns to face Dave, his eyes if possible a little less cleaving. He exhales slowly and then says, "bring it around the back. I'll take a look at it."

Dave was about to question it, try to confirm Burt's absolute certainty but then he thought better of it, and simply stated, "Okay."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Burt had confirmed that Dave wouldn't need a paint touch up and his Camaro was now dent free.

Dave accepted the coke offered to him with a tight smile. Burt was wiping off his hands with a rag before taking a draw from his own coke can.

"You can have a seat," Burt drawls while nodding over to a nearby metal folding chair.

"Nah. Thanks. I'll just stand."

"Suit yourself."

Silence again, the exception being the soft whirring of an electric fan and the pair's slow slurping.

"You can tell a lot about a man by the car he drives," Burt eventually declares. "You're either a wanderer or a guy who feels like he needs to compensate."

The tightness in Dave's smile shrinks.

"You're not far off. I think when I got it, it was - at least in my mind - about the first one. I felt lost and was looking for something. But in retrospect, I think the second is just as true. Maybe even more so."

Dave stares off, not exactly seeing what his eyes were trailing over as his mind wanders.

"Did you find it?"

He shakes his head, forcing himself to re-integrate into this moment. "Find what?"

"What you were looking for?"

Suddenly Dave's smile returns. This time, it's not forced. It's easy and full of compassion.

"Yeah. I did. I found myself. The person I hid away from nearly my whole life." He pauses. "And I found your son."

Burt pulls the can away from his mouth, his grip tightening as he eyes Dave with a judicious gaze.

"You made his life really hard back then. Damn near unbearable. You know that don't you?"

"I do sir."

"And I'm not sure how I feel about this whole thing with you guys now -"

"I can completely understand why."

Burt takes a sip of his coke, his glare just as keen.

"But I trust Kurt. And he trusts you. So for now, that's good enough for me."

Burt throws Dave's keys to him which he catches, simultaneously breathing out a strained exhale.

"But if you hurt him in anyway Karofsky - I swear I'll turn you into a Eunuch."

Another gulp and quick nod is all Dave can manage.

"I mean your entire dick and balls - in a coffee can. Or a mason jar. Depends on my mood. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I think a jar would suffuse. According to Dave that's what Amy keeps mine in."

Both Dave and Burt look up to see Finn standing in the doorway, his infamous goofy grin plastered across his face. Dave can't deny that he feels a sense of relief at the sight.

Burt tosses the rag on the empty metal chair and says, "suffice, Finn. You mean suffice."

Finn's expression is clouded by momentary confusion, and then he smiles again, "Oh, right. Suffice. I knew that."

Burt shakes his head and then begins sauntering toward the exit.

"Um - Mr. Hummel - sir?"

Burt turns, a genuine curiousity present in the arch of his eyebrow.

"I'm in love with Kurt. I have been for a long time. Even before I knew what it meant - which I'm sure was one of the reasons of many for why I treated him the way I did. Me being lost had everything to do with me not being honest with myself, and I'm so freakin' tired of that. I don't need that car to compensate for what I was lacking before, cause I have everything I need in Kurt, and I won't hurt him because it would honestly kill me. Plus I like my balls. A lot."

There's a brief moment of contemplation. Each man indulging in their own silent reverie while the words slowly consumed them.

"I'm sure you're not the only one," Finn finally remarks with a conniving grin. Burt smacks the back of his head.

"Ow! What? It's probably true -"

"Shut up Finn!" Both Burt and Dave exclaim in unison. They catch eyes, and Dave swears that just for a moment, there's a small smile present within Burt's gaze before he departs.

Dave turns toward Finn, the air refilling his lungs after nearly succumbing to a flickering black out while having to interact with Burt.

"Way to be late Hudson."

Finn is still rubbing his head as he retorts, "way to be all, 'Gone with Wind' - super chick flick - I'm gonna love so hard my eyes bleed rainbow brick roads. You should give me lessons."

"I'm sure Amy would appreciate it."

"Why do you think I want lessons dude? So, I take it you no longer require my assistance?"

"No. Well - there is one thing."

Dave had been debating about this particular issue for weeks now. He wasn't sure how to approach it really, so he decided to just spill it, no holds barred and to the point.

"I've been going to AA meetings for a couple months now. I've been sober that whole time. When I was there I ended up getting a referral for a really good therapist who specializes in working with war veterans with PTSD. I think you should check it out."

Finn's good nature seems to immediately darken, his smile disappearing completely. He turns his back to Dave and begins to busy himself with re-organizing the tools left spread out on the bench.

"Finn. Look at me. Everybody needs help sometimes. Me included -"

"I don't need help. They'll just make me talk about useless crap and put me on pills -"

"Maybe. But if it keeps you from having constant night terrors and having these crazy flashbacks -"

"It's none of your business Karofsky!" Finn snarls, his stance rigid.

"It became mine the minute you pointed a gun at me and pulled the trigger."

"It was a stupid air soft gun -"

"That time - yeah. But your daughter man -"

"Don't talk about her!" Finn bellows.

Dave pauses, settling himself before proceeding.

"Your daughter loves you man. And I know you love her."

"More than anything," Finn finally whispers, his posture now hunched as he keeps his eyes trained on the garage floor.

"Then show her how much by getting healthy for her. Take care of yourself so you can be there to take care of her, dude. Don't you think she deserves that?"

Finn drags his gaze back up to Dave, his eyes alight with pooling tears.

"I - I wanna be better for her. I'm so messed up. I should be b-better for her -"

"You can be. Just take the steps to get there."

Finn sniffs, wiping at several tears that have escaped and began their descent over his red tinted cheek. Dave marches over to Finn and holds out a card. Finn is still sniffling when he takes it, looking it over with a dazed look.

"Hey Dave?"

"Hudson."

"You got me a Doctor named, Benova?"

Dave grins. "I laughed about it for over an hour before I could finally say it without crying."

Finn's smirk reappears then. "That had to be planned."

"Totally a coincidence," Dave calls over his shoulder as he exits the garage. "But admittedly hilarious."

* * *

The opportunity had arrived for Dave to hold Danny to their earlier established agreement: that she would have to hang out with a friend her age at his discrepancy. This had been an arrangement based on his ability to go out to Scandal's that first night...

Shit. What if he had never gotten out of the car that night? What if he had just driven away and wallowed in his cowardice?

He may have never seen Kurt, maybe never would've known he was in town for sure at all...

He never would've met Ian's annoying, overly sexualized twink ass which now, just seems sad to him...

He would've still be an overweight drunk with no ambition, buried deep behind his steel plated closet door with no plans for anything really... No real wants other than alcoholic consumption... No real dreams...

The one act of stepping through the aged doors of that worn building with the bright neon sign that shorted out every few minutes had set so many things into motion. Some things that went well beyond himself, like his current act of driving to pick up his little sister and her potential girlfriend from their first official date.

Dave had made sure to provide her with some pocket money and insisted that the time had come for her to make good on their pre-determined arrangement.

Danny was only too happy oblige. Turns out that Jamie may now be the only other person on the planet that she never hesitated with. Well, maybe Jamie and their Nana Mary. That woman always had a way to make anyone open up, and she had a natural knack for understanding his sister through the haze of judgement and cynicism that usually accompanies adulthood - exactly what his Father was well known for.

He was thinking of his dad singing Billy Joel, easily one of his favorite recent memories, when he pulled up to the movie theater. His eyes widened at the sight of his sister sitting on the curb, a tall, balding man dressed in a suit with a gold name tag pinned to his chest hovering over her with a stern expression.

On closer inspection he noted Danny's bloody lip which Dave thought was weird given the huge self satisfied smirk gracing her features. Dave's eyes narrow as he immediately addresses the man - Marvin, the name tag read, obviously the theater manager by the tone of self importance emanating from his cool demeanor.

"What happened?"

"Well sir, it seems this young lady had some trouble with keeping her hands to herself."

Dave shakes his head. That wouldn't exactly explain the bloody lip.

"What sort of trouble exactly?"

"The kind that ends with me banning her from this theater. And she's lucky I didn't call the police - "

"Um - sorry - but since when is making out a crime? You can't just blatantly discriminate against someone because they happen to be kissing someone of the same sex man. Welcome to the fucking new millenium!"

"Sir. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dave exchanges a look with Danny, who seems near rupturing with restrained laughter.

"I was referring to the fight that ensued between your sister and another young lady whom I also ejected."

"Jamie?"

"No." Danny finally speaks, her smile still very much present. "It was this girl, Stephanie from our school. I gave her a bloody nose. But it was after she pushed Jamie first."

"Not to mention the other girl that she struck. That one I'm sure will be sporting a black eye by tomorrow."

Dave was speechless. The strangeness of the event, the fact that his very mild mannered sister had responded with violence at all... He was at a loss for words. Finally he's able to ask, "so where's your date?"

Danny exhales, a happy sound reminiscent of a laugh. "Her Mom picked her up a few minutes ago. I told Mrs. Hudson not to call you since you were already on your way up here."

Dave is rubbing the back of his neck.

"Right. Well - I'll be having a talk with her. I'm sorry about any inconvenience there - um - Marvin."

Danny snorts, immediately putting her hands over her mouth to stifle the giggling. Marvin's scowl deepens.

"She's no longer welcome at this theater."

Dave nods, oddly finding himself also struggling to not laugh.

"Got it. Bye. I mean - er - thanks," he mumbles as the laughter becomes too infectious and bursts forth, he and his sister laughing inexplicably like idiots at this point as they pile inside the Camaro, Marvin shooting them one last dark look before tredding back inside the theater.

Finally they settle down, Dave looking at his sister with a lingering grin.

"So?"

"I don't like that theater anyway. They have gum and sticky crap on every surface. And it's like eighteen freakin' dollars for a large popcorn. Plus the seating sucks."

"Don't deflect. Spill."

Danny huffs. "We were walking out of the movie and this girl: Stephanie Calhoun and her stupid friends started saying stuff to us. Mostly to Jamie - about being a lesbo or whatever."

"And then?" Dave prompts.

"Jamie started to walk away and then Stephanie pushed her. So then I punched her."

"In the nose?"

"Mmhm."

"Wow. And the other girl with the supposed black eye?"

"She hit me in the mouth so I punched her too. Wasn't sure where I'd hit her but my hand kind of hurts now."

"Yeah it probably will for a while. We'll put some ice on it when we get home."

Danny exhales another deep sigh, then says with an obvious air of caution, "should I tell Dad?"

Dave gives her an encouraging grin. "I think that keeping secrets hasn't really worked out very well for our family, so yeah - I think you should be honest, kid."

"But Dad'll get all overprotective and probably never let me breathe natural air again. And he definitely will find some way to blame it on being gay - which I can't actually argue against -"

"Hey," Dave interrupts her. "Dad has to get used to this. We have to give him time. And the more we keep hiding things the harder it'll be for him to accept it. You defended Jamie. End of story. Gay, straight, whatever. Your friend needed help and you did what you could. Some people are just jerks and will find whatever excuse they can to be one. If it's not being gay then it's your clothes or the way you talk or some other lame thing people don't recognize just makes you unique."

Danny gives a small smile in return, and nods concisely.

Eventually, the silence is again interrupted by Dave's chuckling. Danny smiles over at him and asks curiously, "what?"

"Nothing. It's just - I doubt you're gonna be getting any maxi pad specials this year. Not after the punches heard round the world."

The car ride is silent the rest of way home but Dave thinks he catches glimpses here and there of Danny's expression as she stares out the window, glowing with snippets of overwhelming satisfaction.

* * *

"Water? Or apple juice?"

"Surprise me," Dave replies.

Paul Karofsky is digging through the refrigerator, busying himself with pouring Dave a surprise refreshment. Dave suspects that it's likely a method to keep his anger at bay after the news of Danny's altercation. He had already rummaged through the freezer only minutes earlier to procure a bag of ice for Danny's lip and immediately sent her to her room. Dave perceived the action as sort of a 'catch twenty-two': it was good that Danny had avoided the shit storm for now at least, but he had a nagging feeling that it may be blowing directly his way. His experience was that it never boded on well when Paul was this reserved.

He sets the glass brimming with amber colored juice in front of Dave and joins him at the dining table, his own glass of apple juice dripping with condensation.

"I remember you being obsessed with apple juice. Never wanted anything else."

Dave nods, a tight smile on his face as he slowly sips at his juice. He can't seem to manage a response, not when he was too preoccupied with waiting for the inevitable explosion.

"You refused to drink anything else until you were six. Do you remember?"

"Vaguely," Dave answers shortly.

"Yeah. Absolutely obsessed," Paul trails off as if talking to himself. "That's why I still keep it in the house you know?"

"Because I used to be abnormally in love with it until I was six?"

"Because it reminds me of when you were just a little boy. It reminds me of when I could protect you, keep you safe. I like to look in the fridge and know that there was once a time that I was a good father -"

"You're still a good Dad -"

"I wonder sometimes. When your Mom passed and you eventually stopped speaking. When you went through your bully faze, and then when you went and got married out of the blue... When you started drinking like a fish and lied to me about your job; when you were arrested... So many times - I just feel like I let you down son."

Dave was floored at the tears swimming in Paul's deep brown eyes.

"Dad - you did the best you could. Nobody's perfect. And those were _my_ mistakes -"

"Were they? Or the mistakes of a Father who never opened up to you? Never made you feel safe enough, or brave enough to live your life the way you wanted. And what happened with Danny today - God - that was always my biggest fear come true."

Dave leans forward, his own eyes feeling warm.

"Assholes exist everywhere. Danny was doing what I was too chicken shit to do 'cause I was too busy hiding and being scared of what others thought. That was an example of her being herself... Of standing up for what was right. She's getting older Pops, and you have to be proud that your daughter is getting to where she can take care of herself, for the right reasons. And you did that. You raised her to be that way."

A few silent tears descend over Paul's cheek.

"Sometimes - I just want to go back to when you loved apple juice," Paul all but whispers.

Dave chuckles softly, his hand reaching out and cupping over his Father's equally large hand.

"I don't. I just want to live for now, and tell you about how much I'm completely in love with apple cider these days."

Paul snorts, both men errupting into fits of unexpected mirth. Eventually when they settle, Paul raises his glass in salute and they clink them together.

"Danny hates apple juice," Paul reports off handedly before taking a sip.

"She's her own gal. She knows what she wants and what she doesn't. Good news is that she can finally tell us so."

"Yeah. But damn do I wish she did, so I'm not stuck having to drink the entire thing myself every few weeks."

"Ah, the price of nostalgia."

"Oh. Speaking of failed marriages," Paul proclaims with a smile.

"Ha - Ha," Dave retorts sarcastically. Paul proceeds as he retrieves a single letter from the kitchen countertop.

"I got this in the mail the other day for you. Nearly forgot to tell you about it. Looks like it's from a lawyer or something. Thought maybe it had to do with the divorce."

Dave takes the letter, examining it closely, then immediately excuses himself.

He closes the front door behind him, swallowing as he rips open the letter with growing anticipation and anxiety.

When he reaches mid-way through, he feels that familiar warmth pooling behind his eyes. He almost crumples the letter completely in his grip as he cries out to the heavens, then brings it back up just to make sure he hadn't misread the damn thing.

"YEAH! Fuck, yes!" He calls out, a neighbor walking her dog pauses, looking startled.

"Sorry - sorry! Just got some really good news. I - um, sorry about that."

The middle aged woman shakes her head at his antics and guides her black labrador away as if Dave was carrying some viral disease.

He takes out his cell and hopes that she isn't in a meeting. It rings once, twice, then a hurried "Hello?" is heard before the third ring.

"Hey."

"Dave? What's wrong? You sound weird -"

"I'm sure I do. I - er - God I need to calm down -"

"Yes you do. Swallow some air for Christ sakes and slow down."

Dave does as he was instructed, probably a long standing habit that may never die away completely.

"Okay - better?" She asks.

"Much. I heard back, Lis. It worked," he bursts out excitedly.

"Are you serious?"

Dave nods stupidly and then remembers that she can't see him. "Yeah. The guy you hooked me up with, he's a genius."

Now Lisa is whooping and yelling.

"Oh my God! David, that's great. I can't believe it."

"I know. I just - thank you. Thank you a thousand times over."

"You were the one who asked. I just gave you the referral. Really it was Anthony's mutual friend of a friend or some crap like that."

"Well Anthony deserves the blow job of his life for this one."

"David!"

Dave breathes out a laugh. "What? It's guy code. One dude helps another and the other tries to get him laid. The least I can do is convince you of how deserving of felacio he is."

Lisa laughs at that. "Well either way - you deserve it, Dave. I'm glad something really good happened for you. It's about time. You and Kurt both deserve it."

"Hey Lis?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. Thanks again."

"Ditto you schmuck. Now I have to go. I'm sure the people at my job are probably wondering if I just had mind blowing sex in the storage closet or that maybe I kept my rabbit inside of myself on high for too long again. Call me later?"

"Of course. Bye."

"Oh. And tell Kurt I said congratulations. The better person got the better man."

Dave can't help but smile at this exclamation. It feels bitter sweet.

"You're an idiot."

"No. I'm highly intellectual actually. You definitely weren't with me as long as you were for the sex."

Dave laughs with abandon before bidding her an official goodbye and sliding his phone closed.

He looks up at the sky thinking of his Mom and the idea of dreams. They had always alluded him for so long, it was weird to think that this one letter maybe the start of an unexpected but very honest dream that may actually have a battery life that lasted longer than the effects of a stiff drink.

* * *

**A/N: **No worries. I'm not gonna leave you guys hanging on that note. There's one more chap left and I think that it's now officially **Epilogue** time. We made it! I wasn't sure if I was gonna have Burt be in this story but I think the time finally came for his appearance to be felt. Love that guy!

Perhaps my use of the term 'pregnant pause' from the last chap was a little strange. But just to clarify it was my way of meaning that the pause was significant, substantial, whatever word you want to insert so hopefully it wasn't too confusing, lol. Kurt didn't get pregnant or anything like that. Personally I'm not into the whole male pregger stories but to each their own for those who are. No judgement. Thank you guys sincerely for the support. Please feel free to keep the comments, questions, feedback or just general thoughts a'coming. Much love!


	30. Chapter 30

**Epilogue**

**Two years later...**

Fuck.

He was late. Really late.

And Kurt wasn't opposed to telling him so as he marched through the isles pushing his shopping cart, his cell pressed uncomfortably between his face and shoulder. Dave's never been a huge fan of using a blue tooth but in moments like this, he sort of wishes he'd actually give technology a chance.

"Are you on your way at least?" Kurt was asking.

"Almost."

"What do you mean _almost_?"

"I mean I'm _almost_ on my way. I had to stop to pick up diapers and grab some, um, other stuff. For later."

There's a pause and then, "I know it isn't lube cause we have a vat of that thanks to Costco - "

"It isn't lube and will you just calm down Fancy! I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Well Ian can't make it. He's says he'll definitely be there for the reception though."

"What?"

"He's closing the bar early but he still had some inventory to finish up."

"Lame. Very lame." Dave looks up, pushing past an old couple looking over a banana bunch, arguing about the potassium content and their ripeness when he spots someone who looks vaguely familiar.

"Hey Fancy. Let me call you back," Dave breathes out upon the dawning realization pouring over him as he deduces the identity of the mystery figure.

"David Michael Karofsky! If you hang up on me -"

"I'm not if you stop talking. I'll call you back," and he quickly slides his phone shut, rolls his neck to stretch it out a bit, and replaces the cell in his pocket. He hesitates for the briefest second, and then pushes his cart up to the man who was currently staring at a display of tangerines.

"Ass - I mean, Fassbender. Fancy meeting you here."

Colin Fassbender, a hardly recognizable version of the man Dave had once known, with his scraggly, unkempt tresses trailing his shoulders, overgrown facial hair, ripped jeans and an old dress shirt, looks up, his brown eyes widening at the sight of who had addressed him.

"Oh. Dave. H-hello."

"What brings you here to Lima?"

"Um - just here visiting a friend. You're looking - er, quite chic. Nice suit."

"Thanks, dude. You're looking... Not like I remember you. So how's the company doing?"

"Well - I wouldn't know. I don't work there anymore."

"Oh?"

"Dad asked me to step down. You know - allegations. Harrassment, money laundering, blah blah blah," Colin mumbles.

"Oh. Right. That sucks."

"So this is where you've been the last few years?"

"Yeah actually."

"Hm. What are you, a banker or some shit?"

"Nah, I sort of got out of the crunching numbers business."

"Fuck. Are you a dope dealer? Righteous man, 'cause I was looking for someone to buy off of but it's damn near impossible in this shit hole town -"

"No. Not a dealer. I'm not really into the whole substance thing. Not even the liquid sort."

"Ah. Got it. Found God or some religious redemption type shit like that. I dig it -"

"Not exactly. More like I found the love of my life who I'm going to be marrying. And we started our landscaping and floral design business together which is, no pun intended, flourishing." He pauses, thinking deviously of how Colin will react to his next statement. "Not to mention the gay bar that I bought and completely revamped into a solid institution for the gay community here in Ohio with my soon to be husband."

"Fuck me," Colin responds with an air of honest bewilderment. "But you were - you were married... To a woman. You're like - a fag now?"

"I was a fag then too Assbender. Just took a long time to finally admit it."

"Wow. All this time... All those meetings... To think - all the times you were zoning out, you probably were fantasizing about blowing me under the table or something. Crazy."

"So, that never happened. But I'm actually really glad I ran into you."

"Why? So you could rim me or have me tea bag you or some faggy crap like that?"

"Besides that. To tell you thanks. Thank you for firing me."

Colin stares at Dave as if he'd grown another gay head next the one that was already speaking to him.

Dave continues. "It was the best thing that you could've done for me. It forced me to get my shit together and move on with my life. And I have a feeling that none of what I've gained since would've happened if I'd of stayed. So thanks Ass. You're a gem."

Dave holds out his hand which Colin slowly but surely grips, a confused expression still marring his roughly bearded face.

"Have a good life, man."

Colin seems at a loss for words as Dave pushes off, a beaming smile stretching across his face.

"And now for those diapers," he says aloud to himself, inexplicably beginning to whistle the tune to Backstreet Boys, 'I Want it That Way,' as cheerful and upbeat as ever.

* * *

The seats were already full to the brim, each row of folded chairs housing a body writhing with anticipatory energy. Bubbling laughter and snatches of conversation humming around the space creating a din of sound.

Dave was trudging forward past the sea of faces, his eyes searching for a specific face amongst the crowd; the sweat beading along his hairline as he moves at a quickened pace.

And then he sees the face he'd been searching out...

If there was a smile that could cure the most haneous disease, it would be the one currently aimed at him: full, bright, and all his.

Kurt Hummel looked delectably perfect. His blue eyes a whisper of the most gorgeous ocean colored waters that Dave could swim in for hours. He had to stop for a second, automatically halting at the sheer luck of having those eyes trained on him. It still amazed Dave how far he had come and where he was in his life now... This beautiful man who actually wanted nothing more than to be with him. It was mind boggling. Even now.

He moved forward purposefully, ducking down to peck Kurt's lips and then placed a soft kiss on the forehead of the little baby bundled in Kurt's arms.

"How is she?"

"She's good. I just fed her and by some miracle she's managed to drift off in all of this craziness."

Dave was still leaning over, staring at the sweet face, tiny eyes indeed closed tightly signalling the peaceful slumbering of the baby.

At that moment Finn leans toward them, huge Finn grin in place as he too looks over the sleeping form.

"I made that you know."

"Yeah and I still don't get how something that beautiful can come from _your_ man spunk Hudson."

"Cause when you couple it with her mother's gorgeous eggs it makes a recipe for awesome that's how Karofsky. Did you get the diapers?"

"Yeah. And thanks for calling and having me go on a last minute diaper run. Not that I wasn't already busy enough with trying to get orders out and dealing with some lady's crisis call about remodeling her backyard for her anniversary celebration - "

"And finalizing some other very important purchases," Finn adds with the smuggest fucking grin possible. Dave would seriously lean over and choke the smile free from his face if his suit jacket wasn't tailored so snugly. Damn him for relinquishing any information prematurely to Finn of all people. He was as good at keeping secrets as Dave was with hiding his alcoholism several years back.

"Here," Dave growls. "Go and get the diapers from my car," he orders while holding out his keys pointedly.

"Why? You can just bring them to the reception afterward. We have enough in the diaper bag for now..."

Dave's glare could melt the chrome off an exhaust pipe. Finn actually gulps.

"Okay, okay. Hate to make the trip feel un-necessary. I'll be back." Finn then turns to Amy, who's currently fiddling with her digital camera and murmuring curses under her breath.

"Make sure that they don't break her," he giddily requests.

It's obvious that Amy is in a state as she clicks various buttons hoping to garner a different reaction from the offending camera, her eyes never leaving the current bane of her existence.

"I'm more concerned about me breaking this stupid, piece of sh-" Finn cuts her off with a quick kiss, smiling at her as he pulls away; a sign of him considering her sailor tendencies as a habitual endearment, but none the less inappropriate in current company. Amy huffs and exclaims, "Let me go and find Burt. Maybe he can get this crappy excuse for a camera to work."

"Good idea woman," Finn concedes with the same goofy grin, inching his way out of the isle and hobbling toward the front.

"He's over by the back stage area. All the grandparents are actually. Oh, except Nana Mary. I think she's over by the snack bar," Kurt explains while quietly rocking the baby.

"Figures," Amy groans. "I'll be back too. Save our seats."

"No. I'd rather just sell the space to any super late, guilt ridden parent who offers the most money to absolve their sense of terrible parental sin."

"Kurt - just save the damn seats."

"Got it Popeye. Kiss your baby with that mouth?"

"Everyday. But you'll be kissing my ass if I come back and our seats are gone."

"Whoa - we got it Amy. Now go find Burt and focus your attention on something that makes you less hostile. Like taking a photo of your child at her greatest hour," Dave offers while taking a seat next to Kurt, who's obviously highly amused by Amy's exasperation.

She rolls her eyes and then retreats toward the back area in search of Burt. Dave now settles in the chair, watching Kurt with the utmost affection. He's so lost in his own mind that he doesn't resurface from his musings until Kurt's voice cuts into the atmosphere.

"What? You're staring David."

"Nothing. I just - You look good. I mean, natural. You'd be a really good dad."

Kurt beams at him, then resets his gaze along the sleeping face bundled carefully in his arms.

"I do want one," Kurt states longingly.

"A baby?"

"No. A Winchester rifle. Of course a baby, silly."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kurt responds casually; a delicate lilt to his voice that signifies the man's deepest consideration and thoughtfulness about the subject. Dave feels awed at how beautiful the idea is, that only one reply seems applicable.

"Sure."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Definitely. I can't wait to see you as a Dad, Fancy."

Kurt rewards him with a chaste kiss, his eyes trailing over Dave's face as he pulls away.

"I really do love you Neanderthal."

"Ditto, Fancy."

The music begins to cue up, sending last minute parents and family members rushing to their seats. Dave finds himself craning past the helium balloons and bobbling heads of the other audience members to see if he can catch a glimpse of his sister somewhere among the mound of yellow clad figures marching out in an impressive line akin to an army troop.

Carol, Finn's Mom, is leading Burt by the hand as they make a bee-line toward their seats. Her eyes alight with tearful excitement as she bends down to give Dave and Kurt quick pecks on the cheek before shuffling past. Amy's trailing behind the two, her once absent smile now deftly in place as she gets the apparently working camera in ready position. Paul is bringing up the rear, hands hidden in his pockets and a broad smile balancing out his jovial demeanor.

"Where's Nana?" Dave asks the group as they settle in their seats.

"Giving Danny a last minute pep talk I think. She should be coming," Carol explains.

"Hey," Paul greets easily.

"Pops," Dave replies with a keen smile. His dad hadn't looked this relaxed or plain happy in years. It was one of the best parts about this day for Dave truthfully: to observe his dad enjoying himself and laced with absolute pride. Paul lodges into his seat, poising himself to look over the crowd and onto the stage.

"Did Finn take a pee break or something? Where is he?" Burt questions.

"Diapers. Had to get them from the car," Dave relates.

"Ah. And how is my little Angel face?"

"Angelina is fine," Kurt reports. "She's been sleeping for a bit now."

"Well toss her this way. I think I need to be holding her for this occasion."

Kurt chuckles at his Dad's words and gently hands over the baby, Burt easily tucking her in the crook of his arm and rocking her in the same fashion that Kurt had just been.

"Burt!" Carol scolds." You make her sound like a football."

"Toss. Pass. Whatever. As long as I'm holding the little squirt."

Carol rolls her eyes at her husband's antics but then pauses on a hulking figure sliding down the isle toward them.

"Got the diapers," Finn announces proudly.

"Good. Now sit down. Jamie would never forgive you if you missed her big day," Carol comments sternly.

"I know, I know. Damn diapers were like vacuum packaged in there. Took me a minute just to pull a few out."

"Language," Amy admonishes, her camera still focused on the front of the auditorium, the large group of graduates now facing the audience as they sat littered across the stage on a set of bleachers erected especially for the occasion.

"Really? _You_ of all people?"

"Oh shut it! I'm trying to concentrate here."

"Seriously - where's Nana?" Dave asks again as Finn sinks into the chair on the other side of Amy.

"Do you think maybe you should go check on her?" Kurt prompts, a hint of concern present within the inquiry.

"Yeah. Danny'll have a premature food baby if she misses it. I'll be back," Dave exclaims as he stands and makes his way down the isle.

"Don't be long," Kurt calls out.

Dave nods as he moves with haste down the walkway and heads over to the snack stand. Dave addresses a young brunette dude adorning a greasy pallor and noticeably pock marked skin who was busy refilling the condiments.

"Excuse me. Have you seen an older woman? Kind of short, silverish hair -"

"Yeah. About a hundred of them. Going in all directions."

"Thanks," Dave retorts sarcastically. He looks around, hoping to spy her in between the random people rushing about. Nothing.

Eventually he notes the last place that made any logical sense: the women's bathroom. He turns the corner, immediately finding the nearest restroom and knocks.

"Anyone in there?" He calls out expectantly. He waits. Tries again. No answer.

"Here's to not getting smacked by an oversized purse," and he pushes the door open marveling at how the din of the ceremony seemed to all but disappear once it clicked shut behind him.

"Nana, you in here?"

Again silence, except the slight echo of his own words. It looks to be virtually empty, but then he catches a sight that causes his heart to practically jump into his throat.

Under one of the stalls, a pair of feet, or rather legs clad in familiar stalkings, is sprawled out over the tiled floor looking limp and un-moving.

Dave crashes forward and yanks the door open, thanking the grilled one himself for the fact that it hadn't been locked.

"Nana! Nana!"

She looks up, wide eyed, a thin wire descending from each ear and connecting to the i-Pod perched on her lap. One hand is holding up an ear ring that was dripping, obviously recently fished out from the toilet.

Dave exhales, leaning down next to her as his heart began to pick up its normal pace.

"W-what are you doing? I thought you were hurt!"

"Getting my ear ring nosey. It fell off and went in here. Thankfully after I had already flushed down that hefty margarita that I peed out before."

"Oh. Well take those off. The ceremony's already starting. Danny's going to freak out on both of us if we miss it."

"Goodness. I didn't realize it was starting. Be a doll and rinse this off for your Nana, will you dear? I need to put this back in my purse," she orders as she holds out the ear ring, and begins pulling her ear-buds out in order to store the i-Pod away in her purse. Danny must've let her borrow it again.

Dave is standing over the sink, shaking his head to himself as he allows water to cascade over the ear ring and cleanse it of any left over toilet bowl grime.

"Were you listening to Billy Joel again?"

Nana Mary is busy rummaging through her purse when a photo falls from the bag. Dave stoops to pick it up as she answers.

"Earlier. Actually I was catching up on some of Danny's latest pieces. She's really getting good, you know."

"You mean mixes."

"Pieces, mixes, whatever you call it. They're quite good. The girl's got an ear for music."

Dave's eyes water slightly as he looks over the picture. Nana falls silent, watching him as he looks it over.

"I didn't think he'd want to miss it. I keep him with me for all of the biggest occasions."

It was a photo of his Grandfather and his Nana. They both looked to be somewhere in their twenties, stars in their eyes as they posed together, happy, and obviously in love. Not even the black and white tones of the old photograph could wash out their natural devotion.

"He was such a handsome bastard, wasn't he?"

Dave nods, fingers sliding over his Grandfather's easy smile.

"I wish Mom could be here," Dave admits quietly.

He feels Nana's thin hand firmly grip his shoulder. "Oh honey. She's always been here. And so has he. Keeping us together even when we were falling apart."

Her hand comes to rest on his cheek. Her own soft brown eyes shimmering.

"I have another photo that I keep with me that's just as special. Would you like to see it?"

Dave nods, his heart pounding as she removes her hand to dig through her purse. She finds it, a fond smile present as she hands it over. Dave's at a loss for words at he stares down at his own face.

It was him, laughing with abandon while looking at Kurt, who was beaming back at him whole heartedly. There was nothing intimate about it, yet somehow anyone who stared hard enough could see how much love was held between the two of them. It was a picture that had been taken at a time that they hadn't been paying attention to the camera, maybe no longer than a year before; both men completely lost within each other. Dave recalls the moment exactly... It was during one of their family dinner nights, a quick shot captured probably by Amy when the two lingered together on the front porch to snag a few moments alone.

"You keep this with you?" Dave finally manages.

"All the time. It's my new favorite." She pauses as Dave narrows his eyes, a gesture he hoped would keep the tears from spilling.

"I have a whole photo album of moments like this with you growing up. But this one... This is the one that I can look at, and know with my whole being that you were undeniably happy. That no matter the losses you've had, or the setbacks, or the heartaches... You've finally found yourself with this man. You two remind me of what I once had with your Grandpa. Something so special that it's beyond broken promises and unfulfilled 'supposed to be's'. It's a happy that makes sense when nothing else does."

And they fall then. Swift and cool against his heated skin. He looks up and smiles adoringly at the matron of his life. The figure that never wavered - not once - in her love for him.

"Two people in love have an understanding that no one else understands," he recites quietly.

"Exactly," she replies with an air of purest pride despite the simplicity of the statement.

They share a brief moment of silent reverie, both lost in the tenderness of the exchange. Dave doesn't know what he's going to do without this woman one day.

"Now. Let's book before we have to suffer your sister's wrath. She's gotten better about openly unleashing her temper since she's gotten more confident."

"Indeed she has. After you," Dave states with a renewed swell of the same happiness that had been captured in the photo now tucked away in his Nana's purse.

"Don't mind if I do," she answers with a graceful chuckle, shuffling ahead while slipping her ear ring back in place.

"Oh, and it was only one margarita in case you were wondering. Not that I count them as a an actual drink. They're more like play time for a sophisticated gay man or some manhattan socialite living off her husband's dime."

"To each their own, Nana."

* * *

More than two hours and what felt like endless speeches and overwraught declarations later, the ceremony finally came to an end. Dave was holding little Angelina as he managed to squeeze through the onlookers to get to his sister who was beaming like he'd almost never seen before. She was doing that a lot lately. He liked that look on her.

The last two years had even brought some physical changes in her as well. The fullness in her cheeks noticeably less prominent, her once stocky frame much slimmer with her natural growth spurt. Of course it helped too that she'd gotten into jogging with Dave every other night and being more conscience about her eating habits. Dave was certain that had a lot to do with both Jamie and Kurt being a steady presence in her life and not having to rely on their Dad for constant friday night fish stick nights or bi-daily restaurant excursions.

She and Jamie were sharing a long hug, only to break up when a petite brunette tackled Danny from behind. Jamie whispered in Danny's ear, Danny then shooting her a devious smirk before Jamie rushed off to join a tall light skinned girl, her long braids pulled up in a loose pony tail.

As Dave strode up, Danny was joking excitedly with her friend.

"Hey Mel. Congratulations."

"Thanks Dave. Hey I'll see you guys later. Gotta catch up with the folks."

"Alright. And you better be there woman," Danny commands playfully.

"Will do bossy," Mel proclaims with a wink and skirts off through the throng to join her parents. Dave smiles at his sister who's still watching the girl disappear among the crowd before turning to her brother with a tentative smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. So, you look happy. And old."

"But not wiser? I did just graduate."

"Oh I've never worried about you being wiser. You're the oldest young person Ive ever known. I think you maybe the same age as Nana Mary in wise years."

"Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome, oh great spoon whisperer."

There was a moment of silence shared between them before Danny moved forward for a side hug, Dave patting her head with his free hand and bending down to kiss her forehead. Another welcome change: his sister's acceptance of affection which was much less of a rarity these days.

"Love you, kid."

"Love you too, Davey."

They pulled away and Dave had to blink back tears.

"Go mingle for a bit."

"Mingle. God, who invented that word?"

"Some white, stuffy, republican probably. That or maybe Ian. He uses it way too often for my taste."

"He'll be at the house later?"

"Yeah. You know how your Uncle Ian can be. All play one minute and then dangerously professional the next. It's kind of unnerving."

"It is scary. But I guess Mike must really like that about him. See you in a bit."

Dave nods as she drifts away to go greet her other classmates. She never ceases to amaze him with her uncanny powers of observation. At that moment Kurt sidles up to him and wraps his arm through his, biting back a smile at the sight of Danny laughing openly with a few of her peers a yard or so in the distance.

"We're seriously getting old."

"Yep," Dave concedes. "Older. But better."

"So are you going to tell me why you were _really_ late?"

Dave stiffens, readjusting his hold on the miraculously still asleep baby.

"Ran into an old friend," he finally decides on.

"Anyone I know?"

"Thankfully no. Here, let's deliver this one to her parents and I'll tell you all about it on the drive over."

Kurt's smile eases into a telling stretch of kink that still makes Dave's face flush.

"Oh, I don't know. You may be a bit too distracted to be doing any talking."

Dave swallows. "Er - baby. Parents. Car. Now."

Kurt bites his lip suggestively, a show of his inevitable sense of power and accomplishment at being able to instill Dave's obvious fluster. Point. Kurt.

* * *

Paul had insisted that the reception be held at his house, which Dave didn't mind in the least.

He had moved in with Kurt just shy of a year ago so the question of attempting an informal dinner party with as many people as they'd been expecting, wasn't realistic despite Kurt's place being of a spacious quality for a one bedroom apartment.

Dave grew to truly love the place, but deep down, knew that it wasn't as special as owning a place together would be. So they'd been working on looking for properties in Lima, and in all honesty, they were in the best position financially to buy a house outright. He was certain that within the next month, they would have a house to call their own.

Dave takes that moment to look over at his love who was laughing at something that Ian had whispered in his ear, Mike rolling his eyes with underlying affection at the two's hysterics. Ian and Mike were still going strong as it were, even with Ian being overly busy managing Scandal's.

Dave had bought the dive from the old owner, Randy, and assigned himself, Kurt, and Ian - if he wanted the responsibility of course - as co-owners. In actuality, the place really was Ian's, Kurt and Dave taking on the role as more of silent partners as they had decided to invest in their own business; something that was truly their own. They had left Scandal's up to Ian to run however he wanted to. And so he did, and the place had never been more successful.

His eyes drift along the table, taking in the other occupants seated.

Paul was tipping back a glass of water, listening attentively to his date, Sharon, a woman he'd met through a work friend. She was a divorcee' as well, working in medical billing if Dave recalled right. She was sweet, and definitely laid back. Something his Dad could stand a little more of in his life. They'd been dating for over three months now, and his Dad, like Danny, had seemed to re-discover his smile.

His eyes take in Amy wiping at Finn's mouth with a napkin, the big goof still attempting to shovel food in his mouth while she worked at wiping away what looked to be a few stray corn kernels. Angelina it seemed had taken on a lot of her Father's qualities judging by her ability to eat like a horse and sleep for hours. She was currently out like a light, sleeping soundly in the baby swing placed in the other room.

Finn was making admirable progress in treatment. Turns out that Dr. Donald Benova was a vet himself, and had experience first hand with war and the impact it can have on one's perception and response to the world. Finn had been taking his meds, and hadn't had a flashback in more than five months. He was taking on even more responsibility at the shop, especially since Burt was planning on retiring in the next year to do some well earned traveling with Carol.

Amy was finally finding the time to take those culinary classes and got plenty of practice with cooking for Finn or putting together fabulous family dinners with food way beyond their scope of sophistication. Last Dave had spoken to her, she had been kicking around the idea of a catering company. Nothing big, just a small food truck that would deliver meals created out of her home. Once the baby was older, she had mused, then maybe her idea could come to fruition. In the mean time, she was thankful for Kurt and Nana Mary's willingness to babysit so she could pursue her craft through the classes.

Dave is looking directly at his sister now.

He was grateful to his Dad, and completely in love with Kurt. But she... She had truly been the one to save him from himself.

Just by being herself. She was the one who had taught him to really accept himself. He had seen so much of himself in her, that her fears and doubts were a direct reminder of his own... a mirror of the mistakes he'd made, of the fool he'd been for so long.

She was so much happier now. So much more herself. No longer did her mother's abandonment shadow her or her Father's expectancy plague her. She had achieved at her age what Dave never could. He chuckled to himself thinking of the first time he'd come home after Lisa had left him: Danny had been caught watching the video for 'It's Raining Men'. Dave had never questioned her about it, but in retrospect, he's sure it had to do with her burgeoning curiosity about sex and gender; trying to convince herself that men weren't so bad.

Nana Mary had been right: Danny had found her niche with her DJ'ing and her music production. She had even found a way to turn it into a lucrative venture, offering to spin at friend's parties or school functions. She was young but her talent was undeniable, and it helped bridge the gap between her and the rest of the world.

Hence her young friend, Mel, who he strongly suspected was probably her girlfriend at this point, holding her hand underneath the table. They'd met when Danny had refused to put on a dirty P.E. shirt and Mel had offered to let her borrow hers at the cost of being benched for not having one herself. As Danny tells it, they both walked out together in their regular clothes, not in the least bothered by the detention they'd received. Mel had been attached to her hip nearly ever since.

Jamie was of course texting, trying to look engaged in whatever Lisa was saying to her between bites while her husband Anthony, a very mild mannered type guy, was actually engrossed in conversation across the table with Burt about the latest football playoffs.

Jamie and Danny had tried their hand at being more than friends, but it seemed that as many friend turned couples later discover, they simply worked better as friends. So the two remained best friends and were supportive of each other in every way. If Dave remembered right, Jamie had her eye on some jock whom Dave was surprised to learn wasn't a boy. It hit Dave then... The tall black girl that Jamie had sauntered over to after the ceremony. He'd bet the socks on his feet that the texts she was currently smiling over were being received by that very girl.

Teens...

And how funny was it that Lisa was actually here with her new husband, sitting with Dave's family no less? It was funny how he and Lisa had followed that same trend, blossoming into the best of friends while learning to navigate their own relationships with other people. She was very preggo at the moment, at least five months. Her glow was annoyingly attractive. Dave however was truly happy for his friend.

In a way, Lisa had been the starting point of him transitioning financially; the point of pursuit Dave calls it. It had been her who had recommended Anthony's friend, some hot shot stock broker and investment genius named Mitch Brandt.

He recalls the day he had received that letter from Mr. Brandt himself. The one that had spelled out that the risk he had taken with his black mail money, had paid off tremendously. The money he'd gained from his investments and stocks had basically brought in a generous fortune: which he partly used to establish he and Kurt's landscape and floral business, and to re-establish Scandal's.

The one pair of eyes that he had caught belonged to none other than his Nana. She had been observing too, watching everyone with a happy sense of delight. She gave him a warm smile which Dave returned. It was as if she had x-ray vision, somehow knowing what Dave had planned and could directly see the object sitting comfortably in his jacket pocket. She gave him a small nod, completely baffling Dave at how she always managed to know everything, and signalling for him to make his move.

Dave cleared his throat and stood, immediately grabbing everyone's attention, the table eventually fallng silent. Dave would've laughed at what Santana Lopez had once described as Finn's 'gassy infant look' which apparently he got when he felt guilty for something, if he didn't feel so nervous himself. Dave noted to never let Finn in on any secret plans again. He was freaking awful at hiding things.

"Um - Hey, everyone. First off let me just say that I'm so very proud of my little sis, and of course Jamie. You guys worked hard and you didn't allow other people to keep you from moving forward. Now you're moving on to high school. A place that can be even more confusing and insane than junior high. And I have no doubt, that you guys'll kick the crap out of those years of your life too."

There was a smattering of laughter at the last sentence. Dave hones in on Danny, his hazel eyes boring into hers, as if the moment only consisted of just them two.

"This day is special because it signals your strength and preserverance that I can't help but be jealous of. It's your day, but because I love you so much, I wanted the chance - if you'll let me - to share a moment of your day, here in front of everyone that loves you, to make our family truly official."

Danny covers her mouth as Dave pulls out a small black box, several other gasps heard around the table as Dave awaits Danny's approval.

She only seems able to barely manage a nod, before catching Jamie's eye in excited understanding.

"Thanks. Now -" Dave kneels down before Kurt, who is staring blankly at him, his hand splayed over his heart.

"Kurt. There aren't enough words to describe how I feel for you. There aren't enough words to describe what we've been through together either. I can only think of four that can properly sum it all up without making too much of an idiot of myself so I'll just get to it... Will you marry me?"

"Great Gaga, you even got the diamond cut that I love... You do listen."

"Sometimes. Only the important stuff, though."

Kurt's blue eyes were wet, the tears threatening to spill over the smile pulling at his full lips.

"Um - are you waiting for an applause sign to flash? Say something or I'll gladly take that ring off your hands," Ian mocks, Mike giving him a sharp look of disapproval.

"I thought you'd never ask," was Kurt's eventual response, his blue eyes never leaving Dave's as the tears finally leak over his pale cheeks.

Dave slips the ring, which he was proud to note was a perfect fit, onto Kurt's ring finger and lets the other man pull him into a searing kiss. This time there actually is applause, not to mention wolf whistling, but Dave can barely hear it over the hammering of his heart.

* * *

The house was practically empty. Mostly everyone had left with the exception of his Dad, who had been conspicuously absent for the last hour. Dave didn't want to think about what that meant since he could've sworn that he had spotted Sharon's car still parked out front when he had walked his Nana Mary out. Even Danny had opted for an impromptu sleep over at Jamie's, along with Mel, leaving his childhood home practically barren.

He had been making his rounds switching off the lights when he thinks that Kurt must've snuck away upstairs. He smiles to himself as he begins climbing the staircase.

It was habit. An automatic reaction that overcame him whenever he ascended the stairs. But he always had to stop when he saw it. The picture of his Mom, his Dad, and him on the sands of the beach... a long forgotten memory that caused him to pause no matter what.

Six year old Dave had been so happy.

Thirty four year old Dave was the only version of himself that had come close to that same child-like sense of happiness.

His eyes drifted over his Mother.

Diane Karofsky would always be his angel. Long before and long after her untimely death. Always carried with him in the heart that nearly exploded from his chest earlier today during his proposal.

"I know you would've liked him Mom. He's everything I've ever dreamed of in a person. And the best part, is that he loves me just as much."

He waits, as if the face beaming back at him through an old photograph was going to answer him. He smiles, brushing his fingertips over the smooth glass of the frame, and continues upstairs.

Yep - His Dad's door was closed. Dave shook his head, both equally amused and grossed out as he quietly pushes open the door to his old bedroom.

Kurt looks up, a familiar book positioned and cracked open in his lap.

"Hey," Dave greets, stealing over to where Kurt was sitting and joining him on the bed. Dave could feel the beating of his heart begin to pick up pace when he realizes exactly the book that has Kurt's attention.

"Hey," Kurt relays happily.

"Er - where did you find that?"

"Under the bed. Seems that someone had stuffed it under there and had forgotten about it."

"Perhaps someone meant for it to not be found."

"Perhaps. But I can't imagine why when a face this adorable is swimming inside it's pages," and Kurt makes a point to open the book up to the page housing Dave's face... several pictures away from another face framed by a sharpie created declaration... Shit.

Kurt Hummel's year book picture, underlined by the words written by Dave's own hand only a few short years ago...

_**I loved you once. It never left.**_

"Kurt, I can explain that - "

Kurt puts his finger over Dave's lips, instantly silencing him. He takes the same finger and presses it to a spot in the yearbook, now home to new words that Dave hadn't noticed until Kurt had pointed them out.

Dave felt the tears pooling as he took in the words spelled out in Kurt's neat, cursive scribe.

_**I love you now. And it's forever.**_

He was seriously getting gayer with every passing day. How many times could he get all teary eyed and soft in one day?

Grilled Cheesus, this man was simply his un-doing... While simultaneously being his entire life force.

Dave removes the yearbook from Kurt's grasp and tosses it aside, then pulls him in for a kiss.

It wasn't filled with urgency, or seeping with a deep rooted need to be quenched via flesh, nor was it a battle of tongues, tasting and probing...

It was passionate understanding, a kiss that proclaimed all the words that Dave hadn't said within his proposal. It was easy, and tender, and just enough tongue to let Kurt know that they belonged to each other.

When they pulled away, breathless and sated, Kurt unexpectedly chuckles.

"What?" Dave breathes out, his smile probably stupidly goofy at the present moment.

"I think your Dad is having sex right now."

Dave can't help but laugh aloud.

"And that's why we'll be leaving. I'd like very much to make love to my fiance without that image being anywhere near me."

"Agreed. I'll drive?"

"You will. Go ahead. I'm coming."

"You will be," Kurt related in a husky tone that initiated that familiar shiver in Dave. He takes the keys from Dave and practically bounds toward the door. Kurt halts in the door frame, turning to address Dave with a coy smirk.

"And I will be punishing you."

"Not that I mind a little punishment. But for what, if I may ask?"

"For lying."

Dave smiles in understanding. Kurt had figured out that his tardiness had actual been due to him procuring the engagement ring. "But it was for a good cause. Which is currently resting on your finger looking pretty damn expensive - oh wait, I meant to say exquisite."

"Hence me punishing you _very_ thoroughly." Kurt then blows him a kiss before retreating out the door.

Dave chortles to himself as he stoops to pick up the year book.

He opens it back up to where both he and Kurt's photos stared innocently back at him; the not so innocent sharpie and pen remarks glossing over the page.

When he was sixteen, he'd just wanted to get out of Lima and leave everything behind him. All of the self hatred and the wishful thinking... All of the - as Nana Mary had put it - the 'supposed to be's,' left behind in a trail of long forgotten dust.

He was still capable of dreaming then, but they weren't his own. They were the dreams that others had proposed for him, pushed onto him, made him feel guilty over.

To get a good job. No matter how soul-less and unfulfilling. _Check._

To find a wife. No matter how much it pained him to pretend. _Check._

To be straight. No matter how in love he was with another man. _Check..._

Until Dave couldn't take the lie anymore.

The biggest dreams, or rather the best dreams he'd come to learn, weren't the ones that were flashy or life long enigmas... They weren't broadway status, or stupid porsche's... they were the simple ones, the ones that were right in front of your face.

Living in Lima, having a good relationship with his Dad and sister... Being in love...

Dreaming big didn't mean dreaming of a life bigger than yourself. It meant loving the life you have and accepting the realities as your best dreams.

And holy fuck would his mom be proud of him right now. He was a regular afterschool special.

And crap, he thinks he may have heard a moan wafting itself down the hallway. With a grimace, he shuts the book and stalks out of his once upon a time bedroom, very much looking forward to washing away any potential imagery of that scene with every loving thrust and moan he could muster from his Kurt.

* * *

**A/N:** So... We did it. It's over and done. I'm kinda happy... and proud. Sorry it took a while for this chap but I've been pretty swamped work-wise lately and I tried to write whenever I could. This story really took on a life of it's own and I had so much fun letting it guide me. I'm used to having things already prepared and this was my first shot doing something chapter by chapter and just letting it flow. I know this last one was straight Fluffy fluffington McFluffiness but I wanted to end it happy even if it bordered on cheesy, lol. I like cheese on my crackers every now and again.

Couple o' things: First I know some may have been hoping for Danny to fall in love with Jamie and be together but mind you they were only twelve year old kids and in the end, I thought that them becoming best friends felt more organic. Who knows what may happen for them in the future though.

Second: I realized that I like to reference photos a lot (as noted in my fic Crazy Hearts). I didn't realize how similar it was until afterward. Fun fact, I suppose.

Thirdly and most importantly: I love the crap out of all you guys for your support. Your words, reviews, favs, yada, yada basically everything you've done... I can't thank you enough. You're all absolutely amazing. I'm done with this one but I have some other ideas in the wood works that I may try my hand at. But I'm definitely open to suggestions and would love to hear any ideas people think they'd be interested in reading from me. Please give me your very appreciated feedback. Much love!


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